


As Red As Blood

by SophieRomanoff97



Series: The Lives of Little Natasha and her Family [25]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: ABDL, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Family, Avengers Feels, Avengers Tower, Awesome Bruce Banner, Awesome Bucky Barnes, Awesome Clint Barton, Awesome Maria Hill, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awesome Phil Coulson, Awesome Steve Rogers, Awesome Tony Stark, BAMF Bruce Banner, BAMF Bucky Barnes, BAMF Clint Barton, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Steve Rogers, BAMF Tony Stark, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Head Injury, Hurt, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Maria Hill is a Good Bro, Medical Doctor Bruce Banner, Medical Procedures, Minor Surgery, Multi, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Non-Sexual Age Play, Non-Sexual Intimacy, POV Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson Is a Good Bro, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Protective Bruce Banner, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Phil Coulson, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Psychological Torture, Red Room (Marvel), Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Team as Family, The Avengers Are Good Bros, The Avengers Need a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Torture, True Love, boys to the rescue, drugged nat, i love them so much im sorry for doing this to nat whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2020-08-11 11:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20152645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieRomanoff97/pseuds/SophieRomanoff97
Summary: When Natasha is suspected to have been taken by people with relations to The Red Room, the boys hop on a jet to go help their girl.Of course, things are worse than they know as the people who have Natasha use any means to get her to drop so they can control the little girl inside of her.Recovery will be not easy, the Red Room might be back, and Natasha isn't the only one suffering.Will everyone make it through the trauma alive? Will they ever find out the truth? Will they be able to bring Natty back to them or will the little girl, and even the woman, be lost to them forever?Come find out.Includes consensual, non sexual age regression, not age play. If you don't like it, don't read it, no nastiness will be tolerated.





	1. Worried boys and rude awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot explain why most of the little fics I write now are angsty or whumpy or both. I guess as crazy as it sounds these are my safe place, and the place where I can write what I want and how I feel and I just like whump. If you're not into it you might wanna skip this fic and look at my other ones, I get it!
> 
> TW:  
torture, violence, being drugged, being forced to drop through nefarious means, more torture, injuries, blood, non-con touching etc

This was the second time in six months that Natasha had gone MIA on mission in what was a suspected hostage situation.

Clint was _really_ going to have to have a talk with Coulson about the missions they decided to send her on. Later, he would find out that Shield hadn’t actually organised the mission at all, that Natasha had found it and decided to go herself. They did that from time to time, usually for situations that were personal to them. Bucky would find Hydra agents or suspected brainwashing situations and would take off on them. Clint had a thing for people who had gotten in too deep into bad things, drugs or underground rings, and would often bring home strays with him.

Natasha’s thing often centered around kids. Around abductions, experimentation on children, paedophile rings.

But for now, Clint needed someone, something to be angry at, so he chose Shield in that moment.

Gathering the others and preparing themselves to leave took no time at all. By the time Clint had received the called that Natasha hadn’t checked in two days in a row, to them getting suited up and congregating on the jet took all of five minutes and then they were in the air.

A minute after they’d took off, Clint got the message with the coordinates of Nat's last known location and his stomach dropped straight down to his feet.

_God fucking dammit._

Because where else would it be but Russia? Not only Russia, but fucking Moscow because _of course_.

Natasha never could resist the pull when information came through their channels about stuff going down in her home country. Literally, never. She was terrified, hyper vigilant, scared stiff, that any one of those reports coming in meant The Red Room was back.

Wasn’t that literally Hydra’s motto? And now since they knew Hydra had had a hand in The Red Room the whole time, wasn’t it possible that Natasha’s ‘cutting of one head’ AKA burning the place to the ground, wasn’t the end?

But, never in all their years tracking and hunting down and stopping whatever was going on, had they had anything come out of Russia, from the original site of The Red Room. Until now, that was.

Tony let Jarvis drive the jet so Clint could talk to all of them.

They all knew of Natasha’s past, they knew of the place that had raised her and trained her. They knew how important it was that that place never see the light of day again.

As Clint told them the location, there were a few wary glances at each other but most didn’t know Moscow was where it all started. Clint did, and so did Bucky. He hated how he had been even a small part of that.

They all knew, that whether that hellhole had returned or not, Natasha was in danger.

They had to get to her.

Fast.

…

Natasha woke with a jolt, pulling in a shuddering breath through the freezing cold water that rained down her face.

The man in front of her laughed, tossing the plastic bucket aside as he grabbed a handful of the woman’s hair and jerked her head up to face him. “Natalia.” The voice hummed, breath ghosting across her cheek.

God, she despised when they sent in him. He was far too fucking handsy and _loved_ getting in her face.

As far as she could tell, it had been two days, at least.

Two days in a dingy, cold room with zero natural light and dirt fucking everywhere.

Two days of beatings, hands all over her, trigger words chanted over and over and over. The trigger words hadn’t worked in a long time. She’d fought fucking tooth and nail to get that shit out of her head and had succeeded. They wouldn’t get her with them.

But they knew them. They knew every single word.

So no, they wouldn’t get her with them but the fact these men knew those triggers told her something possibly much much worse. It told her that they knew her, they knew The Red Room, or someone connected at the very least. It told her that they probably had the tools to just start the whole process again.

To take her mind, to implant new words, to use drugs and shocks and wipes and pain until they were so firmly ingrained all they had to do was say the first word and she would comply.

However, after two days of the old trigger words, Natasha grew restless. Didn’t they know the Avengers would be on their way? Didn’t they realize the words didn’t work anymore? Why weren’t they wiping her already, making her a clean slate for a new trigger?

She got her answer, wishing she’d never even thought those questions.

The man dropped her head, taking a step back.

He’d brought in a case with him and Natasha wasn’t particular interested in finding out what was in it.

Obviously it didn’t matter what she wanted, and the man began to pull out a collection of items that, at first glance, made no sense together but then the pieces clicked together and Natasha felt her veins fill with ice.

They weren’t after the Widow. They’d been calling her Natalia and the woman had assumed that was because that was the name she’d had back then, but it dawned on her quickly that actually, it was far more nefarious than that.

They wanted Natalia. They wanted the girl in her head, not the woman. They wanted her dropped and then…then they were probably going to start the process.

Children were easier to mold and Natalia was the most dangerous child out there.

She had the most kills under her belt by the time she was ten, that the Red Room had ever seen. She was ruthless, unstoppable, deadly.

If she was controlled…if she was controlled, it would all be over. She could kill her family and friends, kill Shield completely, kill anyone they wanted her to.

The man knelt down on one knee, fingers hovering the items before he chose one and stood, bringing it to her.

It was a teddy bear. Soft, brown, with a button nose. The kind of toy that Natty would ooh and aah over, wanting desperately to hold it to her chest.

“We can do this one of two ways.” The man said, smiling and holding out the bear.

“Is one of them the easy way?” Natasha growled.

“I suppose, for you it is. You can take the bear, you can take all the toys you want and you can submit willingly or…well, I’m hoping you’ll choose the second option because then I can have some fun.”

“Please, enlighten me.” Natasha said dryly.

“We make you submit. In much more…interesting ways. Either way, the outcome is the same. You submit.” He pressed the bear to Natasha’s face, brushing a paw over her cheek.

“Please, please tell me you don’t want the toy.” The man grinned.

Natasha grit her teeth and glared up at him, her body straining against the restraints. She was going to fucking kill him.

“No? Thank god, it’s been far too long since I got to play.” He threw the bear over his shoulder and slid a phone from his pocket.

“You know, these things are so useful. You see, it says right here that Natasha Romanoff has a tendency to drop when certain things happen."

Natasha stiffened. He had her Shield records.

"For example, getting knocked out, having a fever or being sick, and one I think sounds very promising, when drugged. Doesn’t that sound like fun? I think that’s the option I’ll play with first. Or I could combine the second two, what do you say? You feel like a nice cold bath?” He grinned, sliding the phone back into his pocket. “Unfortunately, getting a bath filled with ice water sounds like far too boring a chore but lucky for you, I have everything I need right here to implement that last option. I hope you’re not afraid of needles.” He turned towards the single door and clapped his hands three times.

The door swung open and two men carrying a hospital style bed came strolling in.

Once the bed was in place on the floor, one of the newcomers came up to her, a cloth in hand. Natasha knew instantly by the smell that it was chloroform.

“Just so you don’t get any funny ideas and try to escape or anything.” The original man grinned at her, waving the newcomer over.

Natasha struggled, though her arms and legs were bound, she managed to get in good few headbutts and bites in before the cloth came over her mouth and nose. She could hold her breath for a long time, so she did that, all the while still struggling.

_Don’t panic, that will make you breathe faster, don’t panic._

But the restraints were good, another hint that they’d been in contact with someone from The Red Room and after a few minutes her lungs began to burn with the lack of air, her vision swimming. Eventually, she had to take a breath and within seconds, everything darkened.

…

Natasha woke this time both freezing cold and uncomfortably numb. As she blinked away the haze of the chloroform, her vision slowly returned.

She was alone now and as she forced her frigid muscles to move, she realized she was laying down, straps across not only her arms and ankles but her chest, waist and knees. She also had two needles firmly stuck into the crook of both arms, suspiciously murky liquid trickling in from IV bags handing above her head.

It was clear that they hadn’t been in for long, but she was already starting to feel the effects. The cold seeping into her bones came from the drug, as did the numbness spread out across her body.

She could feel sweat collecting across the goose bumps covering her body and her heart raced in her chest.

She had no idea what drugs they were using, whether they simply wanted to confuse and disorient her or if they were going to make her hallucinate, scare her into a drop.

Pulling in a heaving breath, Natasha looked up at the gray ceiling, feeling the burn in her throat that usually indicated she was going to cry, usually a good sign that she was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed wasn’t good. Overwhelmed Natasha was always one step closer to dropping.

She lay there for an indeterminable amount of time, trying to force her leaden lungs to give her enough air and as shapes began to appear at the sides of her vision, Natasha knew she was in for a rough ride.

_Alright, Natty, you’re going to have to listen to me and be strong right now. You cannot come out._

Staring back up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the figures dancing in her peripheral, Natasha fought to just keep on breathing like nothing was going on.

She couldn’t drop.

She wouldn’t.


	2. Hallucinations and other unfun things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this is gonna maybe be quite slow in getting to the little stuff because the point of this fic is she can't and that's gonna have repercussions. Anyways I hope you'll stick with me anyways. And don't worry, little stuff is coming, it's just gonna be one heck of a ride to get there.
> 
> TW: angst, more torture in an attempt to get her to drop, hallucinations, annngsssst

It didn't matter if Natasha closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep, it didn't matter if she kept her gaze straight up at the ceiling, or that she kept repeating the names of her family over and over in her head, none of it worked to block out the faces and the voices.

People she'd killed, people she'd watched die, people who had tried to kill her. Madame, Yelena, diplomats and gangsters and assassins and _daddy_.

_No. Not daddy. No. Seargent Barnes. Soldier._

Despite not being completely lost in the haze of the visions and the drugs coursing through her, Natasha couldn't help but begin to spiral.

Her heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with this ice in her veins.

They wanted her to panic. Panic drops were more confusing for the little and it would be even easier for them to take the confused, scared girl, and control her. There was a reason the drugs had been chosen before the other 'options' she'd been presented with.

They didn't know that she saw those faces in her nightmares already.

She already saw the blood soaked faces, empty gazes, flames surrounding them. She already saw Madame and her whip and sharp tongue. She already heard the orders compelling her to kill as she slumbered at night. She'd forgiven Bucky long before the second bullet of his had tore through her shoulder but still, she saw him too sometimes. How could she not?

She could deal with these faces. With these ghosts. She could. Most of them she had already dealt with long ago.

But of course, the drugs were inside her and her mind was the thing supplying the gruesome images, not anything else, so things took a turn as she realized those figures would not make her drop. Not anymore.

So then her mind supplied the figures that would. That could.

It started with Clint. An imaginary arrow slicing through the air above her face. His soft laugh, twisted with mirth, in her ear. His calloused fingers gripping her hair and pulling. His beautifully rough voice murmured straight into her being.

"Did you think we'd really let _you_ into our family, Natalia? You? You're a monster with so much blood on your hands they're always going to be stained. Do you really think you deserve to live happily ever after?" His face slid into her view and it didn't matter how hard she squeezed her eyes shut, he wouldn't go away.

_Daddy_

_No. Shut the fuck up._

This twisted version of Clint would never be anything to her. He couldn't be. He would never treat her like that, never say those things.

_It's not real. Not real. Not real..._

_Right?_

Natasha shuddered, a shaky, panicked breath escaping her lips as more figures joined Clint, their faces twisted imitations of those she held dearest to her.

Their eyes filled with hatred, with disgust, with anger. All directed at her.

Natasha began to feel her grip on reality slipping.

_Please. Please no, I'll be good._

"You're not good, Natalia, you never have been and never will be." Steve murmured, voice sickeningly sweet as he looked down on her.

"You're bad. Evil. You don't deserve redemption and you will never get it." Bucky whispered, eyes glinting in the darkness of the cell.

Natasha whimpered ever so softly, yanking her head to the side, where Tony and Bruce stood, arms crossed.

"Please," the woman pleaded, fighting to get air into her panicked body, "make them stop."

"Natalia, why would we do that? This is what you deserve. This is it. This, forever." Tony hummed, taking a step towards her.

Bruce's eyes flashed green, a dangerous grin spreading across his face. "I don't think she gets it, Tone, why don't we show her what she really deserves?" The sleeves of his shirt began to rip as the Hulk began to come out. "Let's give her the pain she's inflicted on everyone else." He growled.

Natasha couldn't pull her eyes away as the group descended on her, holding her down, hands squeezing tight enough to break bones as they closed in and closed in until all she could see were their angry faces and their hate filled eyes.

Natasha screamed.

...

After that, Natasha lost all concept of time and reality.

She was aware of nothing but the faces and the words ingrained into her brain.

Until mercilessly, Natasha sank into the darkness that pulled at her. She went willingly.

...

The next thing the woman was aware of was how fucking cold she was as she forced her gritty eyes to open.

She was still laying down, blurry gaze staring up at the ceiling. The restraints were still wrapped around her. The needles were still stuck in her arms, though the liquid coming through was now a different colour.

She was also wet. Not just 'bucket of water thrown at her again wet' but head to toe, dripping with water.

A shiver ripped through her body as she exhaled, teeth biting momentarily into her lower lip.

She had no idea how long she'd been there now, the drugs had addled her consciousness so much she didn't know if she'd been tormented by the hallucinations for minutes or days or even longer.

But it seemed that now they were moving onto plan two. And sure, Natasha could probably pretend to drop, it wouldn't have been the first time. Maybe if she convinced them, they would let their guard down and Natasha could get out of those fucking restraints.

But, she had a sneaking suspicion that even if she appeared dropped, the torture would continue, and it was best that if that were the case, she wasn't anywhere close to Natalia or Natty. She wasn't using her voice or her mannerisms because that was one step closer to a slip up.

No, she couldn't take a drop, she just had to sit through whatever they were going to do to her.

As Natasha lay there, gaze up at the stained ceiling, the effects of the new drug and the reasoning behind the cold water became clear. Apparently the man had decided against the bath, and was trying the whole sick/fever drop another way.

Despite her best efforts at trying to control the violent shuddering of her body, it was all but impossible.

Before long, her teeth were chattering hard enough to send vibrations up her head, and her body was shaking so hard she worried the restraints were tight enough that she could break something.

This time, Natasha determinedly did not let herself lose track of time.

She looked up and counted through the seconds, even as her joints ached with the violence of the shuddering and her mind tried to pull away from the digging pain of the cold seeping into her very core.

As the minutes piled up, Natasha could feel her grasp slipping. She was tired. Really fucking tired. It was getting more difficult to count as the tremors began to slow as the fatigue built up.

After about half an hour, the IV stand clicked and Natasha could feel the second the drugs stopped filtering through her system.

They probably knew hypothermia was more likely to kill her than get her to drop. Or so, Natasha hoped because jeesh what a shitty way to go.

She was left to her own thoughts for a few minutes before she heard something whir to life. It sounded like an air conditioner and Natasha flicked her gaze across to the vent she'd noticed way earlier.

She couldn't see anything coming from it but she realized that was definitely the source of the noise when, seconds later, a blast of hot air blew across her face.

_Seriously?_

They were going to keep changing up the temperatures, sending her body from near freezing to burning hot.

Well that was certainly one way to make someone sick.

_Fucking hell_

Natasha forced herself to just continue breathing, even as the air pressed heavy around her, making it hard to pull in breath after her breath. Her lungs burned with the heat of the air they received.

Soon enough, Natasha's body was slick with sweat and her eyes turned gritty and dry as she continued looking up at the ceiling.

_It's just temperature, Natty. Nothing to worry about. We've been through worse._

Even as she said those words, she knew the girl didn't believe her. She whined softly in her head, tears streaking down her red cheeks as she pulled in ragged breaths.

_Ah, shit. Please don't do this, Natty, it's us. It's us and we've got this and you can't-_

The vent stopped blowing the hot air, almost instantly replaced by ice as the drugs began to move through the tubes and into her veins again.

_Alright, Natty, it's about to get cold._


	3. Blood, fevers and finding Nat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh boy prepare for the whump!
> 
> Tw: blood, beatings, general torture, you know the drill guys

Natasha could feel when the inevitable fever began to take hold.

She started off unable to stop sniffling, or shivering, even when the temperatures climbed high.

Her throat burned with more than just the lack of water until she couldn't help but cough, pain sitting sharply in her chest.

Her skin was covered in sweat and she could feel how her face heated.

She twisted in the bonds, squeezing her eyes shut.

_This is bad. This is so so bad._

However, it wasn't the first time she'd been sick and not dropped. It wasn't an exact science, there were a lot of factors that went into a drop; panic levels, how comfortable someone was, how safe they felt, if the position they were in was safe enough to allow that to happen, how long it had been since the last drop, how emotional someone was.

If Natasha dropped when she was sick, it was because she knew she was safe. It was because she wasn't in immediate danger, because she had time to.

This was not one of those times and she forced herself to stay as calm as she could, practising the breathing techniques Bruce had showed her, even if they were often thrown off by the violent coughing.

_You're okay. Just a little sick, nothing to worry about. We don't need to drop, we can't drop, you know that. Not safe._

Natasha wasn't sure how long the whole temperature 'experiment' went on for, she drifted a few times as the fever got worse.

Despite her best efforts, she could feel how scared and afraid the girl inside her was, how she desperately wanted to come out so she could just attempt to deal with what was happening.

Natasha, bleary eyed and shuddering, watching everything through a haze, tried her best to console Natty.

_We'll go home soon, and we can drop properly. With everyone there to look after us. We just can't now. We can't. I know I've said that when I didn't mean it but this time, we really can't._

After another round of the hot and cold game, Natasha barely had a minute in between a violent set of coughs, pulling multiple muscles as her body involuntarily strained against the straps.

The air was beginning to feel a little thin, and though Natasha knew it was just because she was struggling to get enough air in between each cough, she couldn't help the race of her heart and the panic in her veins.

That next time, when the IV stand clicked off, it was silent. No heat came from the vent, no sound of any machinery filtered through.

Natasha dropped her head back and forced her eyes open.

They'd stopped and she wasn't dropped, that meant that something else would be coming.

Natasha wracked her addled brain and sorted through her scattered thoughts.

What was it that made her drop?

She was so tired. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep. The pain in her chest stabbed deep into her muscles, moving around her body until everything Natasha brushed against lit a fire across her skin.

What were they going to do? What were they going to do?

Something...Something about her head, right? Something...

_So tired_

Natasha was clinging to her consciousness as best as she could when the door swung open again.

Eyes snapping open, Natasha forced herself to lift her head and glare at the figure stepping over to her.

"Nataliaaaa." The voice sang as a hand moved to rest against her forehead. 

The man's lips pulled into a smile as he trailed his finger over her brow and down her cheek.

"Those red cheeks, aren't you just the cutest thing ever?" He hummed, slowly pulling his hand away. "Now, have we had any change of heart? There's no need to put yourself through the next phase, surely, when you can just surrender. Give yourself what you really want. Peace, safety. We'll look after you." He tutted as Natasha coughed, grating and painful.

"See, love? We can fix this, make you better, wouldn't you like to feel better?" He asked.

Natasha grit her teeth, forced herself to take a few breaths and looked right up at him. "Go to hell." She spat.

The man's face darkened and his hand shot out to wrap around her throat, squeezing just enough to hurt. "Never give up, huh? Well we'll see how you feel after the next phase." He smiled sweetly and dropped her throat.

Natasha was so bleary that she could barely see what happened next before it was too late.

Another cloth, more chloroform, and then just darkness.

...

Natasha woke up back in the original chair and honestly, it was kinda a relief to not have the straps across her and her breathing seemed a little easier sitting up.

Plus, she'd technically just had a nap. A forced nap, but a nap nonetheless and though she was in pain, though each breath hurt and her brain was fuzzy, Natasha was ready.

They were going to force a concussion this time. And that was perhaps the one that seemed to blur the lines of all the controlled variables. It was going to be harder to stop this one.

The man stood in the corner of the room, leaning easily against the wall, eyes on her as she came to.

"Ready for some fun, Natalia? Remember this is all your fault. You could have stopped this." 

He came stalking towards her and Natasha locked up her muscles, clenched her jaw and met his gaze. As soon as he got close enough, she threw her head forward into his.

She was met with a backhand so hard she saw stars but it was worth it to see the blood dripping down his face from a now crooked nose.

Natasha smiled, slowly bringing her head back from the side. She could taste blood in her mouth and carefully spat it out near the man's feet.

"Oh, you bitch-" the man laughed through the blood dripping down his lips. "You are going to pay for that."

Natasha just smiled sweetly. "And here I was thinking I was going to pay already."

The man smirked, sliding his belt from around his waist.

Natasha expected a blow to come from it but instead he wrapped it around her throat and tied it to the back of the chair.

As soon as the leather met her neck and pressed, she found it harder to breath. Coughs exploded from her chest and she found herself gasping for air that didn't seem to want to come.

Stars shone at the edges of her vision.

"There we go. Now you don't get any more ideas about trying to use that pretty face of yours to hit me." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her face up from where it had fallen.

Natasha frantically gulped down air whilst she could, her chest heaving.

The man smiled. "Let's begin."

Of course he wasn't just going to whack her over the head and leave it at that. He wanted her as broken as possible.

The first punch sent Natasha's head flying back so much it smacked into the back of the chair.

Blood dripping down over her lips and she only bared her teeth, challenging him.

The next blow knocked every single bit of air from Natasha's body, landing right in between her ribs.

Stunned for a few seconds, Natasha tried to get in air but it was seeming like a harder and harder task as time went on.

The blows continued, often in the same places.

Her chest or stomach to knock the air out of her and make her dizzy. Her head to make sure a concussion would follow. Sometimes he'd go off map, breaking a rib at one point, a ring on his finger breaking open the skin above one eyebrow, blood dripping into her eye immediately.

And through all of that, Natasha tried to focus on breathing. Her lungs ached and her entire being grew wary with each frantic, like inhaling through treacle, breath.

The pain in her head or stomach was nothing compared to the deep burn of her chest.

She was dizzy. Either from lack of air or the wounds, she wasn't sure, but she knew as Natty screamed and screamed and sobbed in her head that they were in trouble.

She refused to show it. Lifting her chin with defiance after every blow, even as everything grew hazy.

When his hand wrapped around her throat once more, squeezing until she couldn't take a breath, Natasha just blinked at him.

His fingers dug in so hard that her vision exploded and roaring sounded in her ears.

He must have remembered the mission after a moment because with a reluctant growl, he let her go and Natasha was once more frantically fighting for air.

She didn't have to for long though because the ending blow followed quickly.

The man's fist came flying towards her. Pain exploded first at the front of her skull and then at the base as her head slammed back into the chair.

Natasha didn't know any more.

...

When Natasha next woke up, it was to a hand cupping her cheek and frantic voices talking in the background.

Moving seemed exponentially difficult and even opening her eyes seemed like too much effort.

She wasn't dropped, though. So the man was probably coming up with a new plan. Probably playing nice, hence the gentle touch on her face.

Except then it wasn't so gentle, the hand tapped against her face and the fuzzy voices seemed to grow more urgent.

She thought she might have heard her name. Natasha, not Natalia, which didn't seem to make any sense.

She could feel blood sliding down her neck and shoulders, the pain in her chest so bad she really just wanted to sink back into the darkness.

Because the closer she came to consciousness, the more aware she became of how hard it was to breathe.

A voice said her name again and there were two hands on her face, one pulling at her eye.

Something slipped around her shoulders, fingers pressed against her neck and that got her to move, just a little, in an attempt to stop those fingers wrapping around her throat again. It was already too hard to breathe.

She lashed out with her head again, connecting with something hard, causing the pain in her head to grow exponentially.

She forced her eyes open, confusion warring with her need to sleep because even as she hit out, she didn't get hit back.

Instead, the voices grew softer and a hand stroked through her hair and she was so confused she just had to see what was happening.

She opened her eyes, cringing away from a light to her left, a soft whimper escaping her raw throat as the pain and tightness in her chest grew so much she worried she'd stop breathing then and there.

"Natasha?" A voice whispered and she turned her bleary, slowly going dark again, gaze.

She saw sandy hair, a purple and black costume, bow and arrow next to him.

He knelt in front of her, his hand touching her face.

Too fuzzy to understand or even remember his name, Natasha only knew that the person was safe. He was safe.

She was safe.

As the darkness closed in and her chest heaved with the need for air, she forced out the words she thought were important.

"I didn't drop." She gasped out, voice slurred and hoarse. "I didn't drop. I didn't drop." She reiterated, even as the figure swam in front of her.

Her head dropped towards his shoulder and Natasha was out again.

...

_Ten minutes earlier_

The team had landed in the country thirty hours ago. It had taken them that long to find the place their girl was being held.

It had been gruelling and stressful and each one of them had grown more and more anxious as time went on.

None of them had slept and had barely eaten, Clint only had when Bucky had half chastised him and told him he needed to for Natasha. He'd do literally anything for her.

But now, here they were.

They cleared the building in three minutes flat, downing anyone in sight.

They caught the last man coming out of the last room to search, hands covered in blood.

Clint just knew.

He saw red, firing countless arrows into the man before calling the others to his position.

Clint breathed a single sigh of relief as he saw Natasha, though it was quickly replaced with burning worry as he noticed her slumped position and blood coated hair.

He rushed over, dropping his bow, onto his knees in front of her.

He clutched her cheek, immediately noting how _hot_ she was. Her cheeks were flushed and her skin was burning.

Her whole face was bloodied, sticking to his hand as he cupped her face and tried to coax her awake.

"Natasha?" He murmured, heart pounding in his chest.

He pressed fingers to her pulse point, wincing at the fast rhythm.

"Nat, please-" he whispered.

Footsteps sounded before him and all but Tony gathered around him and Natasha.

Bucky growled as he noted the belt tied around her neck, and the bruises dark against her pale skin.

He ripped it away and told Steve to work on the bonds.

Bruce pushed through to get to Natasha, fingers skimming over her hair. The back of her head was slick with blood.

He carefully pulled one of her eyelids open. She had concussion for sure.

She was the palest he'd ever seen her, apart from the flushed cheeks and even unconscious, she shuddered desperately.

''Tone, we need that footage, we need to know what happened." He spoke into the comms as he watched Clint and Bucky try to rouse her.

There was a distinct crackle every time she breathed in and her breaths were laboured, as if they were difficult to get in. Her lips were tinged blue just a little, in a way that seriously worried Bruce.

Steve had gotten her wrist bonds broken and his arm slipped around her shoulders so she didn't slump forward.

"We have to wake her up before we move her." He told the others, crouching to feel her pulse for himself. 

Then Natasha was moaning softly, weakly tilting her head to get away from his touch.

Before they could react, her head was smacking forward into Clint's, and after a millisecond to recoil, the archer was back in front of her. "Nat? Baby, it's me, it's Clint."

The woman's eyelids fluttered.

"That's it, open your eyes, love." Clint said softly, brushing over her bruised cheek. 

Bucky stroked through her hair, eyes dark.

The woman whimpered, the noise triggering a coughing fit that rocked her whole body. 

"Natasha?" Bucky whispered, crouching to her side.

Natasha's glazed gaze finally swivelled on Clint, though she was clearly not there at all. He still kept brushing over her cheek.

She was struggling to breathe, her teeth chattering together as her body heaved, mouth wide open as she tried to get air.

"I didn't drop." A voice, not hers at all but coming from her nonetheless, made everyone freeze.

The words seemed urgent, as if she needed them to know. "I didn't drop. I didn't drop." She slurred, sending shivers down every single man's spine.

Without warning, Natasha went, eyes shut, head slipping forward to hit Clint in the shoulder.

"Nat?!" Clint grabbed her face, urging her jaw up. "Nat, please-" he croaked weakly, broken gaze looking up at Bucky.

"I have the footage." Tony's voice came over the comms and in a few more seconds, Steve had her legs free.

Knowing they didn't have time to just sit there, Bruce stood.

"Pick her up, we're going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add the boys in at the end there. You know, for whumps sake. 
> 
> I worked super hard on this chapter and made it longer than I normally do and I'm very pleased with it. I hope you like it too! Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed and if you are also a whump-aholic like myself!


	4. Bad videos and not so worried, more like terrified, boys

As soon as Bucky laid Natasha down in the jet, Bruce got to work.

Steve, taking the gruesome job upon himself, headed to the front of the jet to play the footage Tony had gotten. Bruce was good at what he did, but they needed to know exactly what had happened and Nat...she wasn't going to be able to help.

Taking one last look at his girl, Steve inhaled, pulled headphones over his ears, and pressed play.

Meanwhile, Bruce was helping Natasha the best he could.

First, he carefully settled an oxygen mask over her face and got her attached to the monitors.

As he did that, Clint began to dab at the head wound as carefully as he could.

It would need stitches for sure, but the archer hoped that no damage had been done to the skull or brain.

She had a concussion, but hopefully, once that passed, that would be it.

But they were in trouble if they didn't wake her up. 

Concussion could be tricky and needed to be monitored frequently, and to do so, they really needed Nat awake.

Trembling fingers wiped at the blood coating Natasha's pale face.

As the first layer of blood got wiped away, they began to see the myriad of bruises underneath.

Across her temples, down a cheek, one at her jaw, trailing all the way down her throat until they got to the distinct fingerprint shaped ones.

From the front of the jet, there was a soft broken whimper from Steve and Bucky immediately moved over to him.

He sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as they both watch the horror unfurling on screen.

"Our baby." Steve whispered, his eyes wide and horrified.

Bucky swallowed down bile, teeth clenching together. His whole body shook with rage.

They had died far too quickly.

Clint pulled his gaze from the two men and focused on Natasha instead.

Bruce was now sliding a needle into her skin, his eyes dark.

Clint followed where the man's eyes rested at the crook of one of her elbows and he was sure his blood turned to ice then and there.

"She was drugged." Clint ground out, a shudder running through his body. "With what?"

"Without running tests, I don't know." Bruce shook his head. "Tony, can we get a small of blood sent to Jarvis?"

"On it." Tony nodded, tapping away at a laptop.

"Steve?" Clint called over. "Did you see any label, anything that might let us know what they gave her?"

Steve was stock still, staring at the screen before he very slowly turned his head. 

"Um..." the blonde stammered and a chill ran through Clint at the haunted look in his eyes.

"No labels. She uh...She was drugged with two different things. One clear liquid. That one...made her hallucinate." He swallowed, a tremor in his voice. "The second...made her cold? Freezing. It's more a yellow colour."

"That...doesn't explain the fever." Bruce frowned, looking at the monitor and the numbers displayed there. 

Her temperature was on its way to 105.

"That's because that's not all they did." Bucky muttered. "They started with the drug, threw water at her. Then...it seems like they filtered in hot air? They stopped the drug and sent in the air."

"They were making her sick." Clint frowned, everything beginning to click into place.

"They had her files. Her Shield files. They had to. The drugs, making her hallucinate, making her sick, giving her a fever and a concussion. They're all in her file. The warning signs that we all have, for when we go in the field. For drop triggers." Clint frowned, pinching the bridge if his nose.

"Someone at Shield gave them that information." He breathed.

And then, the horror seemed to really sink in that someone in Shield had been trying to get Natasha to drop.

For what, he wasn't entirely sure, but he was suddenly certain that it had something to do with Natasha's former home.

And then...in that case, they probably wanted her to drop to...

Clint felt his legs collapse and quite suddenly he found himself on the floor.

Tony crouched in front of him, "Hey bud, you okay there?"

"Don't." Clint grit out, his breaths shaky. "Don't be nice to me." He said weakly, feeling the thin line between selves grow blurry in his head.

Tony, immediately understanding, nodded and stood, pulling Clint up with him and then returning to his computer.

Clint leaned heavily against the wall as Bruce tried to patch Natasha up as best as he could.

They wanted her to drop so they could have their best child soldier back.

They'd probably been planning to get her to drop, to wipe her, to start all over. 

Kids were easier to control.

Fucking hell.

...

By the time the family got back home, Natasha wasn't exactly awake, but she'd been moving restlessly for the last leg of the journey.

Her fever had climbed to 105.3 and her eyes were yet to open.

Anxious to get her into a real bed with their real equipment, Bruce and Tony rushed Natasha off to the med bay.

Clint wanted to follow but found his legs wouldn't cooperate and he halted at the ramp.

A few moments later, a hand touched his shoulder and the archer felt his resolve crumbling. He pulled in a shaky breath, turned, and buried his face into Bucky's chest.

Steve was close by, wrapping his arms around the two men, chin leaning against Clint's head.

The three men all shared tears in that moment. Tears for Natasha, maybe even some tears for themselves.

Clint exhaled shakily, trembling as he pulled his head back.

"What are we going to do?" He asked quietly, not entirely all big in that moment.

"We get her back to us." Bucky said, voice firm and determined.

"What if she's lost? I...we have no idea how this is going to affect her ability to drop. If she will. And hell, we don't even know if she's going to wake up. She didn't the whole ride home and Bruce said her fever was too high and what if she dies and-"

"Clint. Clint, take a breath." Steve said, cupping the archer's cheek. "Just take a breath. We will work this out. There is no way on God's earth that after all Nat went through back there, that she will not wake up. Bruce will get the fever down, she will wake up and we will handle the rest. Understood?"

Clint sheepishly dragged a hand over his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good." Bucky nodded. "Now let's get inside, sit in with our girl. And make a plan."

If only they could make a plan to stop Clint crumbling to pieces, that would be super fucking helpful because he felt like a fucking time bomb.

This was going to end so badly.


	5. Absent eyes and caring boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Now we get into the emotional whump. Enjoy!

When the boy's had taken a minute to pull themselves together, they headed to the med bay, touching fingers as they walked.

Clint tried not to spiral at the other men's gentleness.

By the time they got there, they found that Natasha was awake.

Bruce already had the woman all wrapped up in blankets with an IV line in the crook of her arm. She looked pale and small, nearly everything but her face hidden. Her cheeks were flushed bright red, matching the gruesome cut across her temple. The pallor of her skin made the bruises littering her body stick out like a flashing neon sign.

Tony was nowhere to be seen, probably already in his lab trying to figure out what they'd given her.

Natasha looked completely and utterly out if it, her gaze blank and staring at nothing, even as three loud men came walking in.

As Clint carefully approached, she very slowly tilted her head in his general direction.

"Nat?" The archer breathed, sitting in the chair at her side, automatically reaching for her hand, clasping it in his own. 

He scanned her face almost frantically, for any sign at all that she was present.

She didn't respond to her name but blinked at him, tiredly, like it was more energy to do so than she had left in her.

"Sweetheart?" Bucky asked quietly, standing just behind Clint's chair, his knuckles white as they clutched the plastic.

Natasha's mouth opened and closed a few times but no words came out at first. She seemed to be struggling, trembling and looking confused.

"You're okay now, love, you're home." Clint whispered, thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

When Natasha spoke her voice was both broken and resigned. "Home?"

"Home." Steve said firmly, hand wrapping around Bucky's. "Safe."

Natasha frowned, her eyes darting around the room. She pulled in a trembling breath that seemed to exacerbate the rattling in her chest.

After a minute of wheezing coughing, Bruce carefully settled the oxygen mask back over her face. It seemed to help just a little.

A few breaths later and Natasha was watching them with the critical eye she usually reserved for marks.

She didn't seem to believe them at all and the realization sunk heavy in Clint's stomach.

"This is real, Nat, I swear." He breathed, blue eyes filled with tears. "This isn't them, this isn't the drugs. It's just us." 

Natasha said nothing else, though her gaze never faltered. 

"How can we prove it?" Bucky murmured. "How can we prove it's really us?"

Clint didn't think they could prove it. Natasha wouldn't know for sure she wasn't hallucinating again and that scared the hell out of him.

They'd gotten her back, taken her home, but for all she knew, she was still trapped there and they were still playing with her mind.

"You don't have to believe us. It's going to be one of the hardest things to do, we know that." Steve said lowly, gaze just as broken as the others. "But it is us. This is real and you're safe. You're not going to be hurt by them again."

They could see in Natasha's eyes that she was uncertain. And now they were just going to have to do everything in their power to protect her and to get her to trust them again.

Clint was visibly shaking with how upset he was, though he tried his best to hide it. He clutched Natasha's hand like it was the most important thing in the world.

Natasha's tired gaze slowly lowered, eyelids fluttering with how exhausted she was.

"Sleep." Clint said tenderly, not daring to touch more than her hand at that time. "We'll be here when you wake up."

...

And they were. 

Every single time Bruce woke her for a concussion check. Every time she woke screaming or coughing so hard she couldn't breathe. Every time she woke so disorientated and in pain, she couldn't speak. Every time she attacked them, confused, thinking they were coming to hurt her.

They were always there.

As the day passed, the family filtered in and out constantly.

After finding out the drugs she'd been given, Tony had dropped and Steve had only left Natasha's side to take care of him. The boy had been nearly inconsolable, clutching at Steve, his big eyes full of tears. He wouldn't let go of his daddy at all and so Steve had taken him to their room for a nap.

They knew what she'd been drugged with but that didn't change anything. They couldn't give an antidote, just had to wait for them to leave her system and pray there were no repercussions.

After she'd been cleared of concussion, though they still needed to keep an eye on it of course, Natasha slept a lot.

They couldn't get her to eat or drink anything, even after preparing her absolute favourites, she didn't even touch them. Bruce ended up adding more things to the IV so she wouldn't get even more dehydrated but sooner or later they were going to have to get her to eat something.

By the end of the next day, Natasha was definitely clearer and she was seeming to warm to the idea that it was all real at least.

...

It wasn't until the next day that she woke for more than five minutes at a time.

Clint had been napping, curled up as best as he could be in the chair, cheek against her hand on the bed.

He woke to trembling fingers in his hair and a hoarse voice saying his name.

Sitting bolt upright, Clint looked over at their girl.

Her eyes were brighter than they had been the whole time, and she was fully looking at him and seeming to properly see him.

"Nat." He breathed, taking her hand in his. "You have no idea how worried we've all been."

"Sorry." The woman croaked, looking crestfallen.

"Sorry? No, Natasha, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault." He said firmly, though he kept his voice soft enough to not worry her.

After a beat, the woman dropped her gaze to their joined hands, her eyes shining with the tears she hadn't been able to shed yet.

"Come here." Clint said tenderly, standing and squishing himself onto the bed, letting Natasha nestle in against his chest as tears began to drip silently down her cheeks.

The archer engulfed the woman in his arms, pressing the softest kisses to her hair as he rocked them gently from side to side, mindful of her injuries.

"It's okay to cry. Anything that is about to happen is okay." He whispered against her ear.

He didn't use the word drop, worried it would trigger something bad but this was about the time a drop would usually happen.

For the smallest second, he thought she would drop. Her eyes squeezed shut as she cried, trembling and tangling her fingers in his shirt, face bowed low enough he couldn't see her expression.

She took a few, still rattling, breaths, and Clint thought he could see it happening until abruptly Natasha stiffened.

Her hands let go of him and instead moved to rub hard enough at her eyes to hurt, gritting her teeth together as she shook her head, as if listening to someone else. Natty, probably, she was probably desperate to come out and have comfort from her family.

"Nat..." Clint said warily, loosening his hold on her in case things were about to head south. "Nat, it's okay. You don't have to fight it." 

"No." Natasha growled, eyes flashing as she turned to face him. "No."

Clint blinked, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay. Okay, it's fine." 

Natasha glared at him for a few more seconds before turning again, sinking back against him.

This time Clint said nothing, just held her.

Her tears had dried up just as soon as they'd come and it seemed like she probably wouldn't be crying until she dropped and it was not on the cards, that much was clear.

It was just as Clint had feared. They'd done so much to her trying to get her to drop and now that she was safe enough to do so, she couldn't.

She was scared. She was locking the girl in and refusing to let her out and Clint knew from experience it was only going to get worse.

He had no idea what to do.


	6. Dropping and despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: unintentional self harm

A couple of hours later and Clint had swapped with Bucky.

He'd been close to dropping on the jet and now, watching Natasha struggle with both trying not to sleep and trying not to drop, he was hovering.

She barely spoke, nails digging into the flesh of her arms, shuddering with what Clint knew was more than cold or the fever.

He tried to speak with her, get her to engage, but she either couldn't or wouldn't respond much to anything he said or did.

He told her stories, stroked through her hair in the way she really liked, even resorted to tickling her but still nothing.

As the third hour approached, Clint knew he couldn't handle it much longer. His stomach hurt and he felt sick. He was shaking just a little himself and he could feel as time went on, how fuzzy his brain got.

Clint felt guilty for how relieved he felt when Bucky poked his head around the door.

"Hey, Clint." The man said softly, eyes flitting from Natasha's near catatonic features and Clint's tired gaze.

"Here, why don't you go take a break." Bucky suggested as he stepped over to the bed. His face was soft and understanding. "Alright, bud?"

Clint wasn't fully dropped, couldn't until he was out of the room, but the nickname and soft gaze certainly helped ease him over the line.

"'Kay." Clint mumbled, carefully untangling himself from Natasha, hopping off the bed.

Knowing he wouldn't get much of a response but not willing to just leave, he leaned over the bed and pressed a kiss to Natasha's forehead. "I love you, no matter what. If you want me, I'll be right here." 

Ducking his head, he rubbed clumsily at his nose as he moved to rush past Bucky. The man stopped him, a gentle hand on his bicep. "Hey, sweetheart, Steve and Tony are in the living room. Go join them, okay? No running off on your own."

Clint sniffled and nodded, "'Kay." He whispered again.

"You're such a brave boy, Clint. Thank you for taking such good care of Natasha. Do me a favour and make sure you remind Stevie it's snack time, okay?" Bucky wanted to make sure that the kids still were sticking to their regular routine, since it had been all bent out of shape. 

Clint nodded, unable to stop himself from pushing right up to Bucky's chest. He wasn't able to ask for what he needed but Bucky always knew.

Arms wrapping around the near boy, Bucky pressed a kiss to his hair. "You're okay, Clint. This is all going to he okay."

After a few shaky breaths, Clint pulled back and headed out the room.

Taking a breath himself, Bucky sat in the seat by Natasha's bed. "Hi, sweetheart." He murmured.

Natasha didn't answer him, though her head tilted in his direction just a little.

He couldn't begin to imagine what was going on inside her head. 

She was almost rigid on the bed, her gaze not there at all.

She was clearly shutting most things out in an attempt to shut the girl inside her out. She was stubbornly refusing to drop, and it wasn't as if Bucky could say there wasn't good reason. 

She was terrified, panic stricken at the mere thought of letting Natty out. After everything those evil men had done to her, Bucky seriously didn't know how any of this was going to go.

They knew it was impossible for Natasha to never drop again. It wasn't all mental, but biological too. There was no way she could hold Natty off forever.

She could try, but the more she did, the more erratic she would become. Odds were she would refuse to sleep, since her walls would be pulled down. She would ignore touch and comfort since that could send her over the edge. She would refuse anything that reminded her of the little girl. Drinks, foods, blankets, her siblings even.

She was completely shutting her mind down, pushing out anything that could cause her to drop. Putting her walls up and blocking out the world.

It was terrifying to know that was what was happening. How Natasha felt, what she was dealing with. 

If Clint had even failed to get her to open up or pull down her walls just a little, they were in serious trouble.

They'd known Natasha refuse to drop before. But this was different. So different. This wasn't her being stubborn or feeling like it wasn't a good time or not feeling completely safe. This was something else entirely.

Bucky didn't even know if Natasha was able to hear him but he hoped so, since she'd vaguely turned in his general direction before.

"Natasha...I know this might not register or you mind not be able to listen but...You have to know this isn't okay. You can't hold Natty off forever, you're going to hurt yourself very badly. You are safe here. One hundred percent safe and I understand that after everything, you're scared, of course you are but they're not getting to you again. We are here to protect you. Look after you. You don't have to force yourself into not dropping."

He didn't realize until a second later thay he'd made a very bad mistake using that word.

Because Natasha's head snapped up and the look in her eyes was almost unrecognizable. 

Her lips pulled back in a snarl and she was very suddenly not Natasha anymore. Not their Natasha. 

"I don't fucking want to drop!" She growled. "You can't fucking make me!" 

Before Bucky could even realize what was happening, Natasha was pulling wires and needles from her skim and was getting off the bed.

"Nat-" Bucky immediately stood, reaching for her and backing up to get to the door before she could.

But she was wily and stubborn and didn't hesitate before sliding past him.

It happened so quickly and Natasha was so fast that by the time Bucky had turned in the hallway to grab her, she was nowhere to be seen.


	7. Scared and on the run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of someone who is potentially going to hurt themselves

Natasha ran as fast as her legs would carry her.

It didn't matter that she was in her pain, that the pressure in her head made her feel like her skull was about to explode. It didn't matter that she was dizzy and trembling and starving. It didn't matter that she was still feverish and her body was dealing with the withdrawal from the drugs.

She knew she had to run. So she did.

Her mind was so fuzzy and her thoughts were so twisted, constantly merging in her head until she couldn't even remember what she'd been thinking about three seconds earlier.

Her head may not have had any idea where she was it where she was going but as always, muscle memory came through.

She expertly wound her way around the corridors. Something in her remembered the living room would be occupied by people she didn't want to see. Or was it that she wasn't allowed to see them?

Either way, she gave that room a wide berth. She ignored the elevator and instead took the stairs, unsure where she was heading but just knowing it was _away_.

She could barely remember what she was even running away from. Her temples throbbed with every step and she was distinctly aware that something in her head was missing.

Hadn't someone been talking to her? Now the only thing in her head was static and her racing, mushed up thoughts.

As Natasha reached the top of the flight of stairs, she became aware that her chest was on fire. Not only that but her breaths were grating and rasping and actually hurt her throat as they came out.

She bent over at the waist, gasping and coughing as her oxygen starved lungs ached.

The pressure in her head grew ten fold as she struggled to catch her breath and dimly realized that she was headed towards something very bad.

Forcing herself to stand properly, Natasha began to run again, knowing that whoever was following her would catch up quickly if she loitered around being pathetic.

She should have been _more_ aware of that fact because no sooner had she began running again then the door at the bottom of the flight of stairs banged open.

Knowing she was about to run out of time, she changed tactics.

She pushed over a vase and chairs around a table in another dining area and then quickly retreated in the opposite direction.

Maybe it would fool whoever into going that way.

So consumed was she about getting away, that she didn't notice there was a step leading up to her destination.

Her toes connected with the step but she was still rushing forward, so Natasha ended up tripping, flying a few feet before landing heavily on the ground.

A distinct _snap_ filled the air around her and seconds later, the woman was howling softly at the pain stabbing through her wrist and radiating around her body.

Crawling onto her knees, wrist cradled to her chest, gasps echoing throughout the room, Natasha couldn't help what happened next. She was already slipping and slipping.

Overwhelmed and fuzzier than she ever remembered being, Natasha's mind reacted in the way it was made to do.

It forced her into a drop. She didn't go gracefully. It wasn't a quick transition at all.

Her mind threw her headfirst into it, kicking and screaming, frantic pleas of _no please I don't want to_ ignored.

There was no line to gently fall across this time. Instead it was a gaping, jagged hole she went tumbling over, with no easy way back across.

Natasha fell and fell and fell.

Natty woke up.

...

As soon as Natasha had slipped past him, Bucky was slamming his hand into the intercom button.

The one he'd pressed went down to the lab and all he had to say was, "Natasha's gone." Before Bruce was in action mode.

Natasha could get into a lot of trouble very easily. She wasn't thinking right, wasn't in control of a lot of things happening to her. Hell, Bucky didn't even know if she was Natasha at that moment.

The look she had given him before taking off had been something he'd never seen from her before. It was animalistic, terrified, pissed off as all hell.

Bucky couldn't help but be bombarded with outcomes for the whole thing. When neither Natasha or Natty was in control, she could be incredibly reckless. Impulsive. She could run out onto the streets and take off, she could hurt herself or hurt someone else if she felt threatened. She could get her weapons, could decide the family was the enemy. She could decide _she_ was the enemy.

And that was without the mental and physical torture they'd pulled her from. That was without her forcing herself into not dropping. That was without those bastards playing with her and fucking with her. That was without Natasha deeply believing that to drop was the worst thing in the world she could do.

They were in so much trouble.

...

Luckily, at least one of the outcomes wasn't possible. As soon as Bruce had heard that Natasha was gone, he'd locked the tower down. Not fully, since they needed to get from place to place inside. But the doors and windows leading to the outside had all been locked and shut down.

Most of the exits were on the lower levels so Bruce hoped neither of the kids saw and got scared.

Sure, it would have been great to have extra hands on deck to help them search but pulling a kid out of a drop only to set them down in a scary situation, was definitely not good.

So Bruce took the elevator down to the bottom level to start searching, as Bucky started at the floor with the med room and worked upwards.

One of them would find her.

They had to find her.

...

Natty didn't know where she was.

She didn't understand what was happening. She didn't know why she hurt so much, why she was crying so desperately, why she was struggling for air.

She didn't know why she was in the cramped space she'd decided to climb into, didn't even remember getting there. Didn't remember anything for a while before that, actually.

She didn't know why the place she was in was dark. Why there was a blanket underneath her and empty snack packets in front of her.

She didn't know anything!

Not one thing.

Except that she was very, very, very scared and sad.

Sobbing, Natty dropped her head to the cold metal underneath her, howling as she jostled her wrist, cradling the appendage to her chest as she continued to sob her heart out.

_Hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts please make it stop I don't know what to do I don't want to be alone please someone help_

A low, keening wail escaped the girl's lips as the fingers of her uninjured hand twisted into the blanket she was curled up on.

As she did that, the girl shuffled until her face was pressed against the fluffy blanket and not the metal.

She inhaled raggedly, still crying. As she did so, something registered in the back of her head.

She knew that smell. The scent of the blanket...she knew it!

It took far too long for her scrambled egg mush of a brain to comprehend but when it did, she immediately let out a soft sob.

_Daddy_

The blanket was daddy's, so it must mean she was in her daddy's special high up hiding place.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts.

_Want Daddy_

_Can't have daddy_

_Wanna hug_

_No hugs!!! Hugs are for good girls and you're a nasty bad girl_

_Scared_

_Good. Weren't supposed to drop, idiot, now you're in danger and they're gonna come for you and it's all your fault!_

_Can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe_

_Help_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!


	8. Bucky the tracker and Natty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you enjoy. A little warning, I'm suffering with brain fog a lot today but I did my best trying to check for things that didn't make sense and any errors. If there's a word that doesn't seem like it's the right word it's because my brain decided to forget the word I wanted to use. Anywaysss 
> 
> Tw: brief mention of someone having the capacity to potentially hurt themself 
> 
> Malyshka- baby in Russian

When Bucky reached the fallen chairs and smashed vase, he knew he was getting closer.

He could either go to the left, past the ruined objects, in the direction Natasha would have gone if she had truly knocked the stuff on accident.

Or, he could follow the niggling voice in his head that told him that it was a set up and had been done on purpose.

He followed his gut and began to head in the other direction. 

The corridor lead to a room Bucky had never even thought to check out before, it was basically empty, only holding a few dusty pieces of furniture.

After checking the very few objects Natasha could have hidden under, Bucky pressed a hand to his head.

The chairs must have been an accident then, his gut had been wrong. Except his gut was never wrong, he truly didn't think she had gone the other way but then where had she gone? There was no one but him in that room and it had been the only one off the corridor.

He took a few steps back towards the door, brows furrowed as he scanned every surface of the room, every wall, every possible place there could be a...secret door or something, anything that would explain why he hadn't left that room to go the other way yet.

He was hovering in the doorway when he heard something.

Unsure at first where it was coming from, Bucky moved to the centre of the room to see if the muffled noises got louder or quieter.

Louder.

In the middle of the room, he could hear that the sounds were that of crying and his heart lurched in his chest.

_Natasha_

But where the hell was she?

He moved quickly back to the furniture shoved into the corner of the room and this time, instead of looking under the objects, he looked on top.

And there, across the top of an old three legged table, was a break in the dust.

A footprint.

It dawned on him all of a sudden and he cursed himself for being so unobservant.

If living with Clint had taught him anything, it was to always look _up_.

And there, on the ceiling, a little hatch, almost completely hidden from view, but Bucky could see the square and a little hole someone would use to open it. Someone like a wily spy, for example. 

Without even thinking about it, Bucky carefully and quickly climbed up onto the table, making sure it would hold his weight before he stood up fully.

He was about to slip his finger into the opening before abruptly stopping and clenching his fingers into a fist instead.

He knew Natasha was up there, but he had no idea _which_ Natasha he would open it up to find. He didn't know if she had dropped, if she had weapons, if the vent connected to other parts of the tower.

If he spooked her and she began climbing through the vents, Bucky knew he wouldn't be able to follow, there was no way he could fit up there, especially not with his arm.

Knocking would spook her for sure, but maybe it would be less intimidating than his head popping up in her hiding place.

Taking a breath, Bucky quietly knocked out their little rhythm. All of the family knew their little morse code signal, so if someone wanted to knock on a room, they would use that. If someone knocked on a room without that signal, the person inside knew it wasn't someone from their family.

Bucky held his breath after he'd finished knocking. 

The muffled sounds of crying he'd heard stopped immediately and he could just imagine Natasha clamping her hand over her mouth to stop the noises.

But, Bucky hadn't heard any scuttling or anything that might have meant Natasha was bolting.

So he knocked again, this time speaking after the sequence had finished. "Natasha?"

The was the sound of a bang from inside the vent and a soft whimper echoed from inside.

"Nat? It's Bucky, I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to help. Can you open the door so we can talk?" 

Everything was quiet from within and Bucky's anxiety grew as he waited for a reply, any reply. Maybe she'd managed to get away silently and was already deep in the bowels of the Tower.

Or maybe she'd passed out. She was still hurt and there was no telling what all the running had done to her already weakened body.

He was about to say fuck it when a childish, soft and hesitant voice came from within. "That's what you would say if you weren't real."

Bucky wasn't sure what she meant at first, until he remembered the videos they'd collected. The videos where she'd been forced into hallucinating so vividly that when they'd gone to get her, she didn't even know if it was really them.

"It's me, sweetheart." Bucky kept his voice soft but still firm. The voice coming from inside suggested that she was dropped, but he also knew the woman was clever enough to use her little voice to trick him.

"What can I do to prove it to you, Nat?" Bucky asked, chest aching at the thought of how much his love was suffering a foot away from him and he couldn't do anything about it.

But Natasha was silent. Maybe she didn't even know how he could prove it was really him.

"Why are you here?" Natasha asked after a few moments of silence. 

She sounded genuinely confused and Bucky realised there was every chance that she had been so scattered and so caught between the two halves of her that she didn't even remember getting there.

Still, he took it as a good sign that she had come to that place in particular. Because it was obviously one of Clint's hiding places, so somewhere inside her, she trusted at least Clint enough to use that hiding place.

"I'm here because I love you. Because I'm worried and I want to help. Want to make sure you're safe and looked after." He said simply.

"You said I was evil." The woman's voice broke and Bucky was sure his own heart broke along side it.

"I didn't. Nat, I would never say anything like that. It wasn't me, the bad men who took you made you see that, but Natasha, it wasn't me. You are not evil." Bucky whispered, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Natasha's voice was definitely shaking when she spoke next. "M...my arm h...hurts." She hiccupped.

"Your arm?" Bucky asked quietly. Had she fallen? Hurt herself on purpose? Did she even know how or why it hurt? "Why don't you come out so I can have a little look?"

Natasha whimpered softly and Bucky was certain at that point, that she wasn't faking a drop. She really had dropped.

"Baby? I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember where we were before you got here?" He wanted so badly to pull the hatch open and cradle his baby girl.

"H...hospital." She whined softly and Bucky could just imagine how her face would have screwed up when saying that.

"That's right, malyshka, 'cause you have some ouchies and all daddy wants is to make the ouchies better and for you to not be in pain anymore. Can I at least open this so I can see you?"

"No!" Natasha half sobbed, half screamed at him. Bucky felt his stomach drop.

His nails dug into his palm and he exhaled shakily. "Okay. Okay, I'll stay here. This is all on your own terms, baby, we'll do what you want." 

"Not coming out." Natasha said, her voice muffled. It sounded like she still had her hand over her mouth.

"Okay. Then I'm just going to sit down on this table here and when you're ready, we can go get your ouchies checked out." Bucky slowly lowered himself down until he was sitting cross legged on the dusty table top.

It physically hurt him to know how distressed Natasha was, how on top of everything that already hurt and felt bad, her arm was hurt now too. And he just had to sit there and know that and not be able to do anything about it.

There was silence in the room.

Bucky pulled out his phone to give an update to Bruce, who immediately messaged back asking if he should come up there or should get Clint to come.

Bucky didn't know what to say to that. Clint did have a way with Natasha but he was dropped himself and as much as he loved his baby sister, he would be so upset to see what was happening. If Bucky was heartbroken, he knew Clint would be just the same, if not worse.

Bruce wasn't dropped, but Bucky was aware that he was close to overwhelming the girl and that any more people coming in and invading her private space, could be chaos.

So he told Bruce to sit tight, informed him that she'd hurt her arm and would need it looked at.

The silence was broken by a loud fit of coughs from above him and Bucky's jaw clenched at the ferocity of the attack.

"Natasha?" He implored, "are you okay up there?"

Mfter a few ragged breaths, the girl cleared her throat. "'M fine."

There was the sound of shuffling and a small yelp that made the man's heart race. She must have really hurt herself to be making that kind of noise.

How was he supposed to just sit there? But then, if he opened the hatch regardless, she would bolt. And not only that, the trust would be broken.

So he sat still, picking methodically at a frayed part of his jeans for an indeterminate amount of time.

"I don't feel good.'' Came a soft voice from above and immediately Bucky was back on his feet, fingers pressing to the hatch.

"Please come down, baby, I just want to help. You don't need to suffer, that's what daddies are super good at, fixing ouchies." He prayed to a God he had long stopped believing in him for Natasha to open that hatch.

After a few more moments, she did. Not completely, just enough so that he could see part of her tear stained and pale face peeking out from the dark.

"That's it, sweetheart, just a little more." Bucky encouraged, offering a warm smile. "I can lift you down and we can go sort out your arm, okay? It must be hurting so much."

Natasha sniffled and the hatch opened a little more. "Comin' down." She whispered.

Bucky kept still and as unthreatening as possible. "You're doing so good, Natty, just a little bit more and I can reach up and get you down." He could have opened the hatch himself but then the control would be in his hands, not hers, and for this to work, Natasha had to be in control of everything that was happening.

Again the hatch was opened a little more and Bucky could see that Natasha had her arm curled against her stomach and with the light coming through the window, he could see that the skin was mottled and bruised, swollen.

She'd probably broken it.

Fucking hell.

He didn't let any of that show in his face, nodding and smiling reassuringly. "Almost there."

The next time the hatch moved, Bucky could see all of Natasha. He lifted his hands up to take her, like he said he would, when suddenly Natasha reared back from his touch.

"No-" she half gasped out, shaking her head frantically.

"Okay. Okay." Bucky said immediately, dropping his hands as Natasha watched him warily.

His entire being hurt.

When she seemed content that he wouldn't touch her, she shuffled on her ass until her legs were dangling from the vent.

She jumped, landing awkwardly on the table, a cry escaping her lips as her arm got jostled.

Bucky clambered quickly off the table, chest aching as he recalled those panicked eyes as he'd tried to help her.

Natasha didn't exactly give him a wide berth but she stayed far enough away from him that she wouldn't accidentally brush up against him.

More tears on her face, Natasha slid off the table.

"You're doing so good, baby." Bucky whispered, unable to stop all of the pain leaking out in his voice.

Natasha had her head down and her arm protectively hidden from view.

''Lets go get you looked at, sweetheart, we can help you feel better." Bucky smiled, making his way towards the door. Natty trailed after him, always at least three steps behind.

If Natasha didn't even want him touching her, Bucky had no idea how Bruce would be able to look at her arm, nevermind get her attached back to all the IV's and stuff.

This was not going to be easy.


	9. Ouchie and spiralling caregivers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy the slow pace of this. I really wanted to build things up whilst still making it entertaining and nice to read. Thanks for reading guys!
> 
> Again sorry for any mistakes brain fog is a nightmare haha

The entire trip back to the medical wing, Natasha stayed exactly three feet behind Bucky.

Despite how badly the girl was wheezing, Bucky used the stairs instead of the elevator. The elevator wasn't small but it also wasn't big enough for Natasha to stay her three feet away and also, she could switch from loving confined places to absolutely hating them in no time at all. He had the feeling that the vent hadn't been because it felt safe or small enough that nearly everyone couldn't get up there. It had been because it was Clint's.

So no, elevator=bad idea.

The absolute last thing they needed was to trigger a panic attack with Natty already so sick and struggling to breathe as it was.

"Okay," Bucky told her softly, "we're just going to go see Brucie so he can have a look at your arm and help with the ouchie."

The footsteps behind him faltered a little as Bucky mentioned going to see Bruce. He was worried the girl would stop and refuse to move or even run away again.

But after a few moments, Natasha started up walking again. Maybe it would be okay once she saw Bruce.

It was understandable that Natasha would be wary of Bucky himself, he was probably mixed up in The Red Room memories in her head. But Bruce wasn't and Natty adored her siblings so much.

Bruce was always so gentle and took such great care of the girl.

That being said, Bucky knew it wasn't going to be easy. If she'd just sprained her wrist, maybe they would've been okay but he was certain she'd broken it. That meant x-ray's and a cast at least. And that was only if it wasn't too bad to need surgery or re-setting. 

Realizing he was spiralling before anything else had even happened, Bucky pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind as he and Natasha, a few seconds later, stepped into the medical wing.

Bruce didn't speak at first, as he carefully set down the objects in his hands.

Bucky walked over to the man before ever so slowly turning around to face her for the first time since she'd opened the vent.

Natasha immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, the fingers she had wrapped around her bad wrist clenching. It must have hurt terribly but it seemed like Natasha didn't even notice she was doing it.

"Sweetheart?" Bucky asked cautiously, "I know you're upset and scared right now. Is there anything or anyone that would make you feel more comfortable?"

Natasha looked as if she'd thought about it for no time at all but Bucky could see the tension of her shoulders and the ticking in her jaw, indicating she was actually thinking very hard.

After a few moments, she shook her head and Bucky felt sick.

She wasn't accepting any comfort or help. If she was sick or hurt or just sad she had lots of things that bought her comfort. Stuffies, her pacifer's, soft clothes, fiddle toys, Liho and Lucky, her weighted blanket, different scented items. It was rare for her to not accept at least one of them, and for her to not even want Clint close by seemed like a massive red flag.

Even if she wanted none of the items on offer to her, she was normally insistent on being with or by Clint at the very least.

Bucky swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to nod. "Okay, baby. Do you need some help onto the bed?"

Another shake of the girl's head as she crept closer to the bed she'd rushed out of earlier.

The only difference from earlier was that Bruce had gotten out the portable scanner so Natasha wouldn't have to deal with the bigger, scarier one.

It pained Bucky and Bruce to watch her struggle onto the bed with one hand. Her nostrils flared and she bit into her lower lip as she got onto the bed. That would normally be the point she would close her eyes because the pain was so bad, but she stubbornly kept them open even as a few tears welled up in them.

"Okay, Nat, I just need to give you something for the pain first, otherwise when you straighten your arm for the x-ray, it might hurt very much.'' Bruce said gently. All his movements were slow and done deliberately in her eye line as he reached for a new IV line considering she'd ripped the other one out.

But before he could even begin to tell her what he was about to do, Natasha grit her teeth and took her hand away from her injured arm. She straightened the whole thing out quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, a soft broken whimper escaping her lips.

She'd gotten very pale very quickly and her breathing was heavy. Tears streamed freely down her face now.

"Okay, okay, just lay your arm here-" Bruce muttered quickly as he slid a pillow underneath where her arm was hovering.

With another stifled gasp, Natasha lay her arm down.

They could all at once see how bad the injury was. Her arm was swollen and massively bruised and Bruce was sure he knew where the break was before even turning the scanner on.

Natasha was breathing through clenched teeth, her eyelids fluttering a little.

Bucky was concerned that she was about to pass out and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and comfort her and steady her.

However he knew any sudden touch would cause her to flinch and flinching meant she would jostle her arm and then she really could pass out.

That bad of a broken arm was a lot of pain for anyone, let alone a little girl who was already in a lot of pain because of everything that had happened.

Bucky met Bruce's gaze and the pain was mirrored in both of them.

Bruce tried his best to hide it as he spoke next. He knew Natasha had flung her arm like that to avoid medication, which was completely understandable after everything. But also he knew that the pain was only going to get worse when it came to setting it and putting a cast on.

She really did need some kind of medication because whilst he knew Natasha could withstand an incredible amount of pain if she needed to, she didn't need to. She didn't need to be crying from the pain when he could easily help soothe at least some of it.

Natasha was stubborn though, even when young, and she was jumbled up after the abduction and her head was filled with so many different things that Bucky knew the drop had been forced upon her, not chosen willingly. 

She may have not been able to pull her age back up at that moment but what she could do was avoid anything nice or helpful or comforting. She believed she didn't deserve or need it.

"Sweetheart, please let me give you something for the pain." Bruce said quietly, glancing over at Bucky.

The men had a choice. They could either give her the medicine knowing it would help her but that she didn't want it. Or they could sit there whilst she writhed in pain and cried, knowing she didn't want the drugs.

Neither man wanted to betray Natasha, especially after she'd literally just been in a place where they drugged her without consent. But watching Natasha in pain was perhaps more than Bucky could handle and he was her daddy and wasn't it his responsibility to take care of her and decide what was in her best interests?

Fucking hell, Bucky wished Steve was there. He always had a very rational point of view and would probably have the right answer.

But was there even a right answer? Either choice they made would result in a distressed and hurt Natasha. It was just that drugging her without consent would result in a Natasha that trusted them even less and would feel betrayed.

"It's her choice." Bucky whispered, not sure how long he'd been frantically searching for the right thing to do. Steve made it look so fucking easy.

Bruce swallowed and nodded, his eyes just a little green. Bucky wasn't worried, he just knew that Hulk hated seeing Little Red hurt and he knew she was about to be in more pain.

"We can't take the choice away from her. Not like they did. We're not like them. We can't betray her trust." Bucky said softly. 

He was sure his chest would never stop hurting. He was supposed to protect his babies and now Natty was going to be in so much pain and he couldn't even hold her hand or stroke her hair through it. What kind of caregiver was he, to fail so badly? Maybe Natasha was never going to forgive him and-

He was pulled back from his head again by the distinct feeling of being watched.

Bucky blinked, expecting Bruce to be watching him with sympathetic eyes. He wasn't expecting Natasha to be looking him straight in the eyes for the first time since the whole thing had started.

Natty was watching him carefully. To the untrained eye, her expression was neutral, maybe even cold and distant, but her eyes burned holes into his soul.

Bucky pulled in a breath. He hadn't realized how hard he'd been breathing, how close to a panic attack he'd been. He swallowed and slowly unclenched his metal fingers from the fist they were in.

A little bit of red crept up his cheeks as Natasha continued to stare him down.

After a few moments of silence as Bruce got the scanning machine ready, Natasha cocked her head to the side a little, her brows furrowing.

She opened her mouth and closed it a few times before finally deciding what she wanted to say. 

"Sad?" She asked so softly it was more a whisper.

Bucky blinked and exhaled shakily. "A little." He murmured honestly. "You're in pain and there's nothing I can do." 

Natasha dropped her gaze once more and Bucky thought that was all the interaction he was going to get for a while.

His heart pounded painfully in his chest. Maybe he would need to ask Steve to come up soon instead. He couldn't quite catch his breath properly.

Bruce pulled the scanner down over the girl's arm, careful not to touch her.

"Okay, we'll count down from three and then start the machine, just try and keep super still for me, Natty." Bruce said kindly.

Bruce had just begun counting down when Natasha whispered something hard to hear over the soft whirring of the scanner.

Immediately turning the machine off, Bruce carefully asked, "what was that, love?"

"Medicine." The girl whispered, nodding at the tray Bruce had discarded the IV in.

Bruce's expression softened. "You want the pain medicine?"

Natty glanced over at Bucky momentarily before nodding.

Bucky offered a weak smile that soon faded after Natasha had looked away. The knot in his stomach loosened just a little as Bruce got the medicine ready.

For whatever reason, Natasha had accepted the meds and that was great, honestly. But she still wasn't accepting any touch or anything comforting so it seemed like they had a long way to go.

Maybe accepting the meds was the start of everything getting better.

Or maybe things would go horribly wrong very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you feel about this chapter 🤗


	10. Ice and a very good brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I hit an unexpected bump in my health and writing has been very very hard. This has taken me quite a while to write and there might be some mistakes so sorry for that. 
> 
> I know there's not much chance that a lot of you guys are also reading my non-little fics but if you're reading those too I'm really sorry there haven't been any chapters. I'm trying my best and I honestly can't say when new chapters will be coming. I hope you all can bear with me and be patient. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me.
> 
> Also please let me know if the slow pace is too slow and if you guys would rather I just get on with it. Thanks!!!

Bucky stood away from the bed, fist pressed to his mouth as he tried to figure out what to do.

They had multiple pressing issues facing them, even though the pain meds had been dealt with. 

Yeah, it had been difficult to actually get her to take them, since she refused the needle form and Bruce didn't have any strong enough medicine in liquid form so they had to be tablets.

Anyway, that had been dealt with. But now they had other problems.

For example, Bucky was worrying about the fact that Natasha wasn't letting anyone touch her. That meant that they couldn't give her the IV again.

That would have been fine. If Natasha hadn't also been refusing food and drink when she was seriously dehydrated already.

That was Bucky's main focus.

Bruce's was the fact that, again, Natasha wasn't letting anyone touch her. That meant that Natasha's arm was continuing to swell up.

He'd been so focused on helping with the pain that he hadn't thought to give her an anti-inflammatory and he knew that trying to get more meds into her was a no go. She'd already pulled back even further from them after the pain ones.

No touching meant he wasn't able to wrap her arm up with ice packs to help with the swelling. That meant he couldn't put on a cast because of said swelling. The longer Natasha's arm was left as it was, the more likely that her bones would heal wrong and she would need surgery to fix it properly.

And then even if they did ice it, there was little chance they'd be able to convince her to have the cast.

Fucking hell.

Bucky sighed softly and took a small step forward, crouching so he was completely in the girl's eyeline.

Her wary gaze looked straight into him and Bucky was struck suddenly with the thought that he had no idea which Natasha they had on their hands.

She was dropped for sure, she wasn't acting like big Nat. But she also wasn't acting like Natty. But she was dropped. It was very confusing.

"Okay, love, we know we can't touch you and that's okay, we understand. But we need to help you feel better. So there are certain things that need to happen so you can feel okay. We need you to drink some water or let Bruce put the needle back in otherwise you're going to get sick."

Natasha flicked her gaze from her arm and then up at Bruce. "Ice?" She said, tone almost flat. 

Bucky's brows furrowed a little as he too looked at Bruce.

"Have'ta break it again." Natty said, blinking slowly.

Now Bucky was very confused. 

Luckily Bruce wasn't. "If it heals wrong, maybe, yes." He said softly. "That's why the sooner we get the icky swelling down, the sooner it can all get fixed."

"I'll do it." Natasha said quietly, dropping her gaze. Her eyes scanned her arm, a finger trailing over the marring of her skin.

Bruce swallowed. "Okay, if that's what you need to do." He nodded. "Buck, there's a mini freezer in that cupboard, if you can get out the ice packs and wrap them in something, a blanket maybe."

Bucky, more than glad of something to do, went to do just that. He was too preoccupied to realize that Bruce was closer to the freezer and would have known exactly how to wrap the packs up better. Bruce could tell Bucky was close to spiraling or having a panic attack and Bucky had been a soldier and sometimes giving him orders and things to do was the thing that helped calm his mind the best.

"Okay, sweetheart." Bruce smiled softly at the girl. "You'll have to listen carefully when I tell you where to put these, yeah? It will be really uncomfortable but the blanket's going to help the cold not hurt. Can you do that for me?"

Natasha's jaw clenched and she nodded silently.

"Alright, darling. You're doing so good letting us help. Whilst we're getting the swelling down, why don't you do something super important and decide what colour cast you want, hmm?" Bruce smiled reassuringly as Bucky stepped over to the bed with the supplies.

Once the packs were all wrapped up, they were left on the bed for Natasha to pick up.

Bruce carefully instructed the girl where and how to place the ice packs all along her arm.

It was clearly uncomfortable but Natty was quiet and made no noises about it, she just settled the packs carefully and then looked back up at Bruce.

"Good job, love." Bucky said softly, smiling softly, trying to be reassuring even though he felt more than a little sick.

Natasha flicked her gaze between the two men, her expression carefully shielded.

It hurt to see that expression. Hurt to know Natasha was hiding how she really felt from them. Hurt that she didn't feel safe enough, couldn't trust them enough in that moment to show her true feelings.

Bucky swallowed bile, hastily rubbing a hand over his eyes and clearing his throat.

"Now?" Natasha asked, voice flat. 

"Now we wait for the swelling to go down. And you think about whether you want to drink and eat or if you want the needle. There really isn't any other option I can give, okay? Because you're dehydrated and getting sick so it really is one or the other. But you have time to carefully think it over." Bruce explained softly.

The room was quiet for a little while before the sound of heavy footsteps came from the hallway.

Bucky recognized the steps immediately, inwardly cursing as he moved quickly to the door.

Clint appeared, rubbing his eyes and yawning softly. "Pa, do you want anything to...Nat?" 

The boy pushed past Bucky, eyes wide. "What...what happened?" He stammered, eyes focused on the arm wrapped up. 

Clint stepped to the bed, eyes watery and his expression vulnerable and upset. "N...Natty?" He asked, confusion clear in his voice. "Sissy?"

Natasha stiffened at that, eyes narrowing. Her voice was ice cold when she spoke. "Don't."

Clint flinched, taking a tiny step back.

Bucky pressed a hand to his shoulder. "Nat's just having a bit of a hard time. She fell down and hurt her arm so Brucie is helping her."

Clint, looking young and uncertain, pushed himself against Bucky's side, clumsily wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Natasha followed the hand movement and behind the blankness of her expression, there was a spark of...something, at least.

Some sort of emotion, something she wasn't completely hiding, something brought out by Clint's distress.

Clint could clearly tell Natasha was dropped but that something was very wrong. Natty delighted in being called sissy.

"Sorry. I...I didn't mean-" Clint stammered, swallowing, eyes filled with tears.

Natasha was still watching Clint rather intently but after a moment, she finally looked back at her arm.

It wasn't a good reaction by any means, but Natasha hadn't bolted again or lashed out, so Bucky was taking it as not necessarily a bad reaction either.

Bucky squeezed Clint, gently nudging him a little further away and out into the hallway.

Clint sniffled and rubbed at his nose, his lower lip wobbling.

Bucky wrapped his arms around the boy, pressing a kiss to his hair. "I know. I know, love." He murmured. "I know it's hard."

Clint clutched Bucky's shirt, pressing his face against the man's shoulder.

"Natasha's gonna be okay, baby, it's just really tough for her right now." He said softly, holding the boy close. 

"W...what if she isn't o...okay again?" Clint hiccuped.

"She will be." Bucky said firmly. "She will be."


	11. Bucky isn't okay (but are any of them?) And a pinch of optimism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I've been completely absent from here for a little while. As well as suckish mental and physical health, my family and I are having to move and pack up the house as quickly as possible so we're in our new house for Christmas. As well at not having a lot of time, I have zerooooo energy (thanks chronic illness') so this chapter took me three or four separate days spaced out over however long I've been gone to write. Sorry! But when I'm not packing you'll probably find me passed out.
> 
> I hope this chapter satisfies, I actually really liked how it turned out. How many of you predicted that Bucky was not okay? 😬 sorry Buck. Also sorry to poor Nat that I torture so much.
> 
> Bear in mind that Nat and Bucky are fairly unreliable narrator's!!!! It's hard to control reactions to trauma (trust me I know) and unfortunately fear towards the gender, height, smell etc of an abuser can surface in fear towards anyone resembling said abuser.
> 
> It is not Bucky's fault!!!!! It is not Nat's fault!!!!! They're all just struggling and doing the best they can.
> 
> Hope y'all don't mind that Maria's back babbby! Or that I decided to go with how I ended this chapter instead of staying with Nat right now.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> I'm sure everything will be fine in the end....maybe 😏
> 
> Okay I've talked too much whoops
> 
> TW's: panic attack, flashbacks, triggers, unintentional self harm, blackouts and dissociation

Clint, overwhelmed and upset, let himself be talked into going back to the living room with the others.

A part of Bucky wanted to follow the boy, switch out with Steve, hug the two boys close. 

Yet he didn't follow, despite the distinct aching in his chest that told him he probably should have gone with Clint.

But switching out when everything was so fragile, when the boys, Tony in particular, would be upset and getting comfort from Steve, and with Natasha possibly maybe starting to come around to him, it didn't matter how he felt.

The bigs had to keep everything as settled as it could possibly be and Bucky wasn't going to 'tap out' on staying with his little girl just because it was a little hard to breathe.

Back in the med room, Bucky walked in to find that Natasha hadn't moved at all. Her big green eyes were hyper focused on her ice pack covered arm and her back was so straight and tense that for a brief second Bucky thought she could snap right in two.

To an untrained eye the girl would look cold, dismissive, uncaring. But Bucky wasn't untrained.

He saw the small twitch of her lower lip, the slight glaze in her eyes, the minute tremble of her fingers.

She exhaled, nostrils flaring and her teeth clamping together.

Bucky realized what was about to happen, but he didn't realize why it was happening until it was too late to do anything about it.

It started with the minor movements he had noticed in just a few seconds and before he or Bruce could do anything, Natasha was pulling in a desperate, shaky breath and flinging her arm off the bed.

The ice packs flew across the room and hit the wall with a dull thud, one narrowly missing Bruce's head.

It was as Bucky watched a pack tear and spill onto the floor that he realized their mistake.

_Idiot, fucking idiot. You saw the damn videos and still let her put freezing ice packs on the exact spot she was drugged with freezing liquid. Great job, Barnes_.

"Nat-" Bucky moved quickly to the side of the bed. 

Bruce had moved to the door, thinking she might run again, but the girl was locked in place on the bed, shuddering just like she had been on the cameras.

Her eyes had been glazed before but now they were completely gone, focused on something only she could see.

Her breaths caught and rattled in her chest but there wasn't even time to cough with how frantic and anguished her breathing quickly became.

Bucky crouched on the floor beside the bed, reaching immediately to her, like they usually did to try and help ground her.

He stopped, hands close but not touching her. What if it made it worse? She was already seeing and living through the awful things that had been done to her. Would touch just remind of their hands all over her?

Bucky had the sudden urge to cry his eyes out.

Swallowing, he looked at Bruce, who stood over the man's shoulder, pale.

"Natasha, love, it's me, Bucky. It's just me and Bruce and you're home, you're in the Tower, not there. We got you out of there-" Bucky doubted anything he said would help but what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just sit back and act like it wasn't happening. He had to try.

"You're okay, Nat, we know it's scary and it feels like you're not safe and you're back there." Bruce was careful to use her 'adult' nicknames and not any of her little ones.

Natasha was gasping, holding her injured arm with her fingers digging in so hard she left nail marks in already blemished skin.

She was staring at the arm, it clearly was still cold and she felt as if it was happening all over again. Trapped and scared and helpless.

A sudden thought came to Bucky and he stood, slow enough to not completely startle Nat but quick enough to try and help as fast as he could. 

Moving to the storage cupboards, Bucky pulled drawers out and rummaged through them.

After finding what he wanted, he rushed back to Natasha.

He was sure the gasping breaths she made would never leave his head.

She was pale, eyelids fluttering a little and Bucky was starting to wonder if her passing out would be better in the long term. Should they be considering sedating her?

Fucking hell.

"Okay, Nat, try and listen to me. I'm going to help but I need you to help me with it." Bucky crouched at her side again, shaking out the blankets he'd pulled from the cupboards.

"Can you hold your arm out, Nat? It's going to help. The cold will get better. It's so hard but you have to trust me with this." Bucky spoke softly. 

Natasha didn't seem to even hear him and her eyes hadn't moved from their spot on her arm.

Bucky was panicking again. It was like Natasha was only awake by sheer will because she was shaking so hard, breathing so hard that the man didn't even understand how she was still upright.

Realizing they really didn't have time to just stand there, Bucky gathered the blanket and laid it over Natasha. He had been going to properly wrap her arm up with it but she didn't want to or literally couldn't move her arm for him to gain access.

Careful to only touch the blanket, he lifted a corner over her shoulder so chest, where her arm was pressed to, was covered with the soft material.

It wouldn't warm her arm as quickly as if it had been properly swathed but hopefully it woukd work.

"Nat?" Bruce asked quietly, his knuckles white as he clutched Bucky's shoulder.

When they'd been on the journey home, none of them had had any clue just how hard the experience would be for all of them. Of course, their panic and worry and sadness was nothing compared to the horrors Natasha had suffered. However, that didn't mean the entire family wasn't reeling with everything. 

Bruce looked very much like he wanted to drop and Bucky would never deny anyone that comfort but...they needed their doctor. And more selfishly, Bucky didn't think he could he could handle trying to look after the girl on his own. His heart broke more and more every second.

Bucky cleared his throat, wanting to say something but having no clue what he should or could even say. 

Natasha didn't want comfort or touch or sensory items. She didn't want her brothers or daddies or...Bucky was suddenly overwhelmed with a revelation so horrifying his ears rang and his vision wavered.

_Fuck. Oh holy fuck._

The Red Room had been lead by men. Madame had overseen a lot, but she hadn't been in charge, Dmitry had. Those that had taken her, that had her files and information, that had most likely come from the same place, had all been men.

Bucky wasn't aware that it was hard to breathe until he felt himself fall back from his crouched position and straight onto his ass on the cold floor.

It was entirely possible he was gasping but everything felt so out of focus and dreamlike that he couldn't tell if that was him, Natasha, or both of them.

He'd been a part of it. The Red Room. Well, no, Bucky hadn't. The Soldier had. Yes, he'd been brainwashed, and yes he'd helped the girls, not hurt them, but he had been a part of the whole thing.

No wonder Natasha wanted nothing to do with him.

What happened next wasn't clear at all. All Bucky was aware of was waking up with his head in Steve's lap.

Blinking, eyes like sandpaper, Bucky cautiously lifted his head and man did that hurt.

"Easy, Buck." Steve said softly, fingers combing through the other man's hair. 

"What happened?" Bucky asked, voice hoarse and scratchy as he slowly shifted his legs off the couch so he could sit up.

Steve was watching him with that pinched, worried expression that always made him look like a kid again. 

Steve's nostrils flared and he actually looked a little paler. "Panic attack. Bruce called me down. I have no idea what happened but when I got there Nat was watching you, crying, and you were on the floor."

Bucky swallowed and winced. "I was shouting, wasn't I?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah." Steve nodded, sliding his hand into Bucky's. 

"Did Nat..." Bucky closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

"We were back upstairs by the time that started. She didn't see it. Neither did the boys. I called Phil and he came right over." The blonde explained, thumb rubbing over the grooves in the metal hand. 

Bucky sat back, looking up at the ceiling. "Fuck, Stevie." He whispered, voice trembling.

"Come're." Steve murmured, tugging the other man to his chest, arms wrapping around him.

Bucky shuddered, eyes burning but no tears escaping. He clutched at Steve nonetheless. 

After a moment, Bucky spoke. "Can we get Maria here? Or Bobbi, Sharon, Melinda?"

Steve hummed, "Maria's on her way with Nick. They think they found the leak."

Bucky stiffened, teeth clamping together. "Shield?"

Steve exhaled. "Clint was right. It came from inside Shield."

A growl ripped itself from Bucky's throat, fingers clenching in Steve's shirt.

"I know." Steve whispered. "We'll sort it. They won't get away with it." After a beat, he spoke again, softer, kinder. "What happened, Buck? And why're you asking for Maria?"

Bucky swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Because...all I'll do is make her worse. I was there when she trained, Stevie. I was a part of the group that took her and tortured her and made her a killer. You said she was crying when you came to get me."

Steve was quiet for a moment. "Buck, Nat wasn't crying because she was scared of you or anything like that. She was upset because you were upset. She feels like it was her fault, the whole thing."

Bucky pulled away from Steve, brows furrowed. "She said that?"

"Not in as many words." Steve admitted. "But trust me, yeah? She was worried about you. Her brain just won't let her convey that properly. She's in flight mode, dissociated and in her head. But she's still our girl. She still loves you."

A tear finally rolled down Bucky's cheek. "Yeah?"

"Buck..." Steve exhaled. "Of course. She always will. Everyone is going to be okay."

Bucky sniffed, wiping a hand over his eyes. He couldn't talk anymore about those fears in that moment or he would fully start sobbing. Instead he focused on what he'd been trying to figure out when he'd apparently blacked out. "Maria?"

"Will be here soon." Steve tilted his head a little. "Why're you so focused on Maria?"

"Her and Nat are close, I thought...maybe she'd feel safer with a close female friend. Like she had in The Red Room." Bucky shrugged. "Just a thought."

"A good thought." Steve said softly, thumb brushing over Bucky's cheek. "We've got this. Okay?"

Bucky shrugged, dropping his gaze. Steve tutted, not having that. 

The blonde tilted Bucky's face up. "Okay?"

Bucky sighed, cheeks just a little flushed. "Okay."

Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Good. Then let's do this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe leave a comment for a super tired author? Love you guys, thanks for sticking with me! 💛


	12. Maria's wishful thinking and not dumb Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have absolutely no freaking idea how its been nearly two months? wow I am so sorry. I feel like this chapter is anti-climatic after that long of a wait but I really didn't realise it had been so long. I hope you like it anyway, more whumpy stuff and hurt/comfort coming next. Again, really sorry, thanks for sticking with me. Sorry for mistakes I'm super scrambled lately.
> 
> Lot's of different perspectives this chapter. We haven't had one from Nat in a while so that's coming :)
> 
> TW: small unintentional self harm moment

Maria didn't think she'd ever seen Natty so scared. No, scratch that, she knew she hadn't.

And it wasn't even as if the girl was outwardly projecting it all that much. Bruce had filled her in on both the fleeing and the panic attack, but now looking at Natasha, she didn't _look_ too scared. 

She looked...absent, was probably the right word. It was by no means the first time Natasha had gotten pulled back into her head but something about her eyes unsettled Maria so much goosebumps rose all over her body.

With a slight shudder, the agent moved slowly towards the bed.

Bruce was watching the whole thing from the corner of the room, jaw clenched and green in his eyes.

Maria struggled to even try to catch the girl’s gaze. She was covered in blankets, wrapped around her shoulders and head with just part of her face poking out.

Maria couldn't see a lot of the girl's injuries, as encased with the covers as she was, but her eyes were immediately drawn to the cut across her brow and the myriad of bruises littering her pale skin.

Maria was completely up to speed on everything, having watched the footage herself on the way over, but seeing the marks close up...she could feel herself grow angry, not just normal anger but full on hulk rage.

How fucking _dare_ they. Once the team managed to hone in on the Shield mole...oh boy, shit was going to get intense.

Whether sensing Maria's darkening thoughts or just the fact someone was moving towards her, Natasha looked up, the blanket sliding a little to reveal finger shaped bruises against the hollow of her throat.

Maria would fucking tear them in half.

The agent forced herself to swallow, forced back those thoughts for the time being. Natasha was an agent and also well known for being an empathetic person, and Natty was no different.

She would easily be able to pick up on the anger, on the hatred, and that was the last thing she needed.

With extreme difficulty, unbecoming of a Shield agent, Maria locked her anger away.

Now her stomach swirled with only sadness and the unquenchable, impossible need to protect the girl in front of her. To shield her from all potential harm, to help her feel better, to comfort her.

Whether it was her big side coming out or just the fact that Natasha was literally her closest friend, she didn't know.

Keeping her movements and body language as non-threatening as possible, Maria carefully crouched to the girl's eye line. 

"Hey, Nat." She said softly, sitting on her heels and staying still as Natasha's gaze took in everything.

She said nothing else, letting the girl take the lead completely. This was no something she would take charge of.

They were there in silence long enough for Maria's legs to cramp up, but still she stayed in the same spot.

Natasha hadn't once looked away but she hadn't flinched or tried to get away, so that was...slightly promising?

Or maybe just wishful thinking on Maria's part. 

Her thighs really were starting to hurt but she stubbornly stayed in her spot, trying to show Natasha that the redhead was in control and that Maria wasn't going to hurt her. She would have done so already if she'd been planning on it.

Natasha tilted her head, brows furrowing a little. A soft little exhale left her lips. It was wheezing and grating and Maria struggled to keep her expression neutral.

She needed more oxygen. But judging by the fact Bruce was in the corner of the room and not tending to her, Natasha wasn't accepting or able to receive help.

That didn't mean hearing the grating little breaths weren't painful to hear.

Maria was seriously starting to doubt she would be able to do anything at all to help Natasha. 

If the girl hadn't been able to let her closest family members help her, want on earth was Maria going to do?

Suddenly very unsure on whether she should even be there at all, Maria began to stand. It wasn't until she was completely up and trying to figure out what to say to Natasha that the girl spoke.

Her voice was so soft that Maria nearly missed it. Her stomach flipped painfully at the broken little tone of someone in a lot of pain, a girl in a lot of pain.

The agent had no doubt in her mind that Natasha was completely dropped, but she had to agree with Bruce that it wasn't her usual persona. She could usually tell ages within seconds of being in the room but with this Natasha in front of her, she had no clue. She could've been older than usual, younger than usual, and Maria wouldn't be able to tell.

It wasn't Natasha but it wasn't Natty and Maria got the sense the redhead herself was just as confused as the rest of them. 

Natasha's broken word echoing in her head, Maria crouched back down immediately, because there was no way she was leaving after Nat's soft ''Ria?'

"Yeah, Nat, it's me." Maria breathed, trying her best to offer a reassuring smile. "I...I know everything is so loud and confusing right now and that you're in a lot of pain, but I promise you're going to be okay."

Natasha's lower lip trembled and for the first time, Maria saw genuine emotion and not the mask of someone determined to hide.

The girl hiccupped softly, brows furrowed. She inhaled shakily and her tone was wet and breathy when she spoke. She seemed to fumble over the word, stopping and starting again. "D...Bu...J...James?" She whispered, all doe eyes and miserable expression.

"James is fine, Tash." Maria said softly, having been there towards the tail end of Bucky's attack.

Natasha looked as if she didn't believe her but something inside her seemed to war with the idea that Maria wouldn't lie.

"He was just having a nap with Steve before I came down here." She elaborated, skipping over the fact it wasn't exactly a nap the man had chosen to take.

It was difficult to understand the myriad of emotions that crossed the girl's face as she took in the fact that Bucky was okay.

In the end, she just looked exhausted.

Her mournful eyes looked down at her knees, back up to Maria and then back down again. She swallowed and closed her eyes for the smallest of moments and Maria could see a shiver run through her.

Her teeth grit together and she held her breath as a few stray tears leaked down her cheeks.

She was in pain. A lot of it. Maria knew something that had been done in The Red Room gave Natasha a high tolerance for drugs, so she'd clearly burned through the pain meds already.

"Nat?" Maria dared to shuffle a little more forward. "We can help. I can help. Please let me help."

The tiniest little sound escaped the girl's lips and Maria couldn't describe it as anything other than a whimper.

Natasha shuddered again, biting into her lip hard enough to send a drop of blood down her chin. She hiccupped and tried to re-bury herself in the blankets.

"Nat, please, what can I do?" Maria whispered, voice just a little desperate as her friend continued to shudder with the pain. She thought it was likely she wouldn't get an answer but then Natasha pulled in another rasping breath and opened her eyes.

"Arm." She mumbled, gaze still lowered.

"It hurts, huh?" Maria asked softly. "We can get you some more meds but Nat, it's not going to feel any better until it's all wrapped up. Do you understand that, love?"

Natasha winced, exhaling shakily. She nodded to indicate that she understood but she certainly didn't look happy about it at all.

"No one's going to hurt you." Maria breathed, eyes locked on the bead of blood trailing down the girl's chin. "I...I know what the mean men made you see and I understand, we understand, that you're scared and confused and unsure of everything. That's okay. We just want to help. I want to help your arm feel better."

"H...hurt-" the girl whined softly, her big eyes full of tears.

Maria wasn't sure if Natasha was talking about her arm hurting or more making a statement about her worry of anyone else hurting her.

"We just want to help." Maria tried to smile. "Just like you help me. Remember when I got that ouchie on my head? You took such good care of me, Nat, you always do. I just want to do the same but this is all on your terms. No one here is going to make you do anything, not ever."

Natasha blinked quickly, swallowing and wiping her nose with the blanket. "Ouchie." She whispered, though it sounded more like a question.

"Do you want me to tell you just how much you helped?" Maria asked, slowly settling on her ass on the floor because her thighs needed a break but also to show Natasha she was there to stay.

Natasha didn't answer but she watched Maria intently enough that the agent decided to talk about it anyway. She always tried to use more kid friendly language when talking about missions or injuries to someone dropped but she had a gut feeling that Natasha needed more than that. She needed to know everything in a slightly more realistic way, but Maria wasn’t going to get completely technical and gory.

"Okay, well we were sent to Berlin a couple months ago, do you remember? And you've helped me lots of times before that, lots and lots, but this one was a little different. Anyways, I got hurt and I fell down and was asleep, right? And you somehow got me all the way back to the safe house with me still asleep. You cleaned me up and made my head feel better and when I woke up, I was really confused. I was sick and sad and you took such good care of me. You held me and called Bobbi so I could talk to her, and you gave me medicine and soup and stayed with me the whole time until we got picked up. Other agents might have left then but I was still small and scared and confused because my head was a bit scrambled so you stayed with me when we got home. You were with me when I had the tests and when some scary things happened and you read to me and held my hand. And then Bobbi came but you still didn't leave. Not until I was cleared and allowed out of the hospital room." Maria smiled, her own eyes watery. "You take care of me and I take care of you. That's what family does, Nat, that's all I want to do. It's all everyone else wants to do." 

Natasha lowered her gaze for a second, eyebrows furrowed. She tugged repetitively on the blanket, clearly deep in thought. After a second, she looked straight at Maria. Her voice trembled but her tone was sure. "Help."

Again, Maria found herself in the strange position of not understanding what Natasha meant. Her word could have meant a few different things so Maria just smiled and nodded and repeated the word. "Help."

"'Kay." Natasha lisped, slowly shrugging the blanket from around her shoulders. Her face was drawn with pain as the movements jostled her arm.

Maria blinked. She hadn't been sure at all what the girl's response would be but it seemed like she was accepting, if not asking, for help.

"Okay, love." Maria murmured. "We can help."

...

Clint sat with his arm around Tony, the younger boy's head resting on the older's shoulder.

Tony had cried a few times and was clearly very tired from all the emotion but he was refusing to go down for a nap. Even dropped, he could tell by the way Phil acted that something was going on. Something that wasn't to do with Natty or both daddies wouldn't be gone. 

Sniffling, trying to be strong for Tony, Clint rubbed up and down the boy's back. "It'll be okay, Tone.'' He murmured.

Clint had eavesdropped on some of the adult conversations and he knew that his daddy Bucky had been scared and had been ill and he was scared about that himself. Was he gonna be okay? He couldn't leave them. He had to be okay. 

"Okay, boys, I have your snack." Phil said softly as he came back into Tony's room with a tray.

Clint really wasn't hungry at all for once but he had to set a good example for his brother so he reached for Tony's fruit snacks and juice box and handed them to the boy. 

After taking his bowl of goldfish and cup of milk, Clint forced himself to start eating. 

After a few moments of watching Clint, Tony rubbed his eyes and sat up, struggling to open his gummies.

As they ate, Clint kept a careful eye on Phil as the man kept checking his phone.

Tony ate his gummies really fast, the way he sometimes did when he wanted to be done eating so he could go play. This time Clint thought it was probably cause he was real anxious.

"Careful, Tone," Clint said softly, "you don't wanna be sick."

Tony sniffled and stared glumly at his snack for a moment before he slowly reached into the bag to keep eating them. His other hand twitched and clenched into a fist. He swallowed his mouthful and slowly lifted his gaze to Clint first and then Phil. 

His soft voice wavered. "Where's daddy?" He was little but he wasn't _dumb_. Steve had been sitting with them and then he'd looked at his phone and then Uncle Phil had come and the grown-ups had whispered to each other, then daddy had left and hadn't come back. 

He hadn't seen Bruce or Natty or his other daddy in ages and his stomach felt all icky and his head felt all confused and sad.

They had sissy back but she was being weird and scary and when Clint had come back from asking Bucky if he wanted food, he was silent and crying and shaking all over.

Something was really really _really_ wrong and Tony was super scared.

He discarded the remaining gummies, arms wrapping around himself as more tears built up in his eyes. He inhaled shakily and at once Clint had his own arms wrapped back around his brother and Phil was kneeling in front of the boys.

"Daddy's jus' in the other room, Tone, he'll be back real soon." Clint murmured, hastily wiping a hand over his drippy nose. 

Phil gently settled a hand on either boy's knees. "I know it's hard but you pair are being so good and helpful." He didn't dare say it would be okay, even if he knew what a force to be reckoned with they all were, because he wasn't clairvoyant and he didn't one hundred percent know. He wasn't willing to lie to any of them, not after...well, his 'death'.

Tony whimpered ever so softly and Phil gently pulled the boys into his arms. "I know." He said gruffly, closing his eyes for just a moment. "I know, loves, but I've got you."

...

Bucky and Steve sat hand in hand, the former still shaking from his attack, as they watched the monitors from the med bay cameras.

They each felt kinda gross about watching but neither could look away, holding their breath and squeezing each other's hands as they watched Maria crouch and talk and wait.

Bucky was pretty sure Steve was losing circulation in his hand with how tight he was holding on but he couldn't let go. If this didn't work, if Maria couldn't help...He didn't want to think about the consequences.

What if Natasha and Natty were lost forever? What if no one could help? What if-

Steve let out a soft little gasp of air and Bucky realized he'd been getting too close to spiralling again. He forced his eyes to the screen, terrified of what had made Steve react. 

Maybe she'd run again, maybe she'd hurt someone, or herself, maybe...

She was letting Maria help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ily guys thanks for reading <3


	13. Natty??? And lots of worries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey hey! Some Natty and Steve POV to switch things up. I hope you like it, my brains still pretty scrambled so I'm trying my best :)

** _Two hours earlier_ **

Natasha tried not to cry. She tried not to cry or not make any noise or move at all.

Maybe if she stayed docile enough, still enough, obedient enough, she would be okay. She would avoid a confrontation, avoid being hurt.

She moved her arm, put the cold on where it hurt and looked up at a face she just about recognised. 

Recognition wasn't exactly reassuring, she knew a lot of bad people.

Her stomach felt unsettled and she had no idea what was really going on. It could be more hallucinations or she might have hit her head again.

She didn't feel safe but that urge inside her to run was quieter than it had been before. Maybe it was the fact she'd hurt herself in the process of trying to protect herself. 

Or maybe she was just exhausted. 

The man with the glasses explained that she might need a needle. Natasha didn't exactly understand why, she just knew it wasn't going to be good.

Needles were _never_ good.

She watched her poorly arm with the smallest of furrowed brows. 

The cold seeped into her skin and she felt shaky and a little dizzy. The ice didn't just stay on her arm, it moved around her until she was forcing herself to hold in shudders.

Then there was another figure and this time, recognition came with a whole host of confusing and conflicting feelings.

He seemed upset. He also clearly knew her. He moved towards the bed, eyes filled with tears.

_Natty_ he'd called her. And then _sissy_.

Her body coiled of its own volition, ramrod straight and tensed. "Don't." The word slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Her tone was colder than the ice on her arm.

She didn't know why she'd said that. The two words he'd said sunk into her brain, only adding to the confusion.

Why had she told him to stop? Wasn't he trying to be nice?

Natasha swallowed, aware with each passing second that her chest was getting tighter and her heart was racing more and more. 

The cold seemed colder still.

The man, boy, Natasha realised somehow, flinched. He took a step away from her and his expression was so vulnerable, so upset, so _emotional_ that Natasha clamped her lips shut so she didn't say anything else that would hurt him.

Why had she said that? 

_Because you don't deserve nice. He's nice and he cares and you're not allowed that. You have to hurt him to keep him away. He's better without you._

Natasha blinked, pulling in a little shaky breath. 

Her thoughts were so confusing. She felt weird and caught in something she didn't know how to escape. She couldn't entirely remember who she was.

How old was she? 

The boy pressed against the man with long hair and Natasha was filled with thoughts.

She knew them well, didn't she? She was close to them. 

She knew them.

_Clint daddy brother Bruce Bucky daddy_

She knew them.

But were they real?

Her arm was cold.

Her arm was cold and she was cold and what if this was the drugs again? What if they weren't real, what if she was still trapped and-

Natasha fought to keep her breathing even. The boy stammered out a few more words, curling into...Bucky. The pair moved away.

She was _cold cold cold so cold please make it stop I just want it to stop_

Without warning or pre-thought, Natasha gasped softly, flinging her cold arm out. 

Pain ripped through her, blinding and harsh. Another gasp escaped her lips.

The things that had been on her arm broke open and Bruce was still crouched as he'd ducked to avoid them.

But that didn't matter, what mattered was that she couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe and she was so scared and unbearably sad and she wanted it to be over _please just stop just let me go I'm done please_

Bucky was moving but Natasha was gasping so hard she could barely see or hear over the noise or the stars in her vision.

_hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts please_

The men were talking.

Natasha dug her nails into her arm, just trying to get it to stop hurting but it just hurt so bad and she was so cold, she would never be warm again, so cold-

Something was put over her but she didn't even see what it was, it shrouded her but she was still cold, she would always be cold.

_Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be bad, I didn't-_

Breaths catching in her throat, Natasha felt trapped. Stuck. Frozen.

Her frightened eyes lifted from the bed and she saw Bucky on the floor.

Pure panic and guilt slammed into her so quickly she thought she would pass out.

He was gasping too.

Bruce was doing something with his phone but Natasha couldn't tear her eyes away from Bucky.

He was shuddering, one hand tangled in his hair, the metal hand clamped over his ear. His jaw was tight, teeth clenched, eyes staring at nothing.

Natasha was scared. 

The man just kept gasping and gasping and gasping. Bruce was on the floor now, hands touching Bucky, speaking to him.

Natasha was_ scared scared scared she couldn't do it she couldn't it needed to stop please_

Bucky was shaking. He was almost a blur with it, just a gasping blur on the floor.

Until he wasn't.

Because he was still, eyes shut, laying, not sitting.

Bruce was rolling him onto his side, looking back over to Natasha. He looked scared too.

Natasha could feel her cheeks were wet and she didn't understand why until she realized she remembered them all, properly remembered them, not hazily anymore.

_Family_. 

Daddy. Her daddy was on the floor and not moving and hurt.

She was sobbing, still gasping, fingers curled into the blanket. Her eyes were fixed on Bucky as she cried. Was he dead? Oh god had she killed him?

Then Steve, daddy, was at the door and he looked scared too. Everyone looked so scared.

He looked at Natasha and then the men and back again. 

She couldn't stop crying.

Bruce murmured something to Steve and then the blond, looking heartbroken, nodded and stood, lifting Bucky with him. 

Steve looked back at her one more time, his own cheeks wet and his expression so sad. "I love you." He whispered to her.

Then Natasha was alone with Bruce and she still couldn't breathe, still couldn't stop crying.

Please stop.

_I can't do this_.

...

** _Now_ **

Steve would have watched the screen all day, wanting desperately to see how things were going. To see Natasha hopefully, maybe, possibly, opening up or letting people back in.

But as Maria coaxed the girl into letting Bruce look at her arm, he started to feel intrusive. It seemed private and vulnerable and maybe not for him and Bucky.

Talking of Bucky, he looked...wrecked, really. He was pale and still trembling ever so slightly. His eyes were dark and had never once left the screen. His hands steepled in front of his chin as he watched and watched and watched.

Steve felt unsettled. Everyone was so worried about everyone else, about the kids especially, but he was starting to think he needed to be worried about Bucky.

"Buck," Steve said quietly, reaching over to squeeze his knee, "Bruce will update us, okay? We should go sit with the boys for a bit."

Bucky blinked and swallowed, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "What if she runs again?"

"Bruce and Maria will stop her. They're prepared this time. Nat's in good hands, you know she is." Steve gently carded his fingers through Bucky's tangled hair.

The other man didn't reply, watching the movements on the screen.

"Love," Steve murmured, "I can tell you don't feel well so let's go get tea and sit with the boy's. Please?" The last word was a little more broken than the blond had anticipated but it got Bucky's attention.

Finally, his gaze moved from the computer. His brows furrowed. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"Have you met me? I worry about everything, Buck. The fact I even _get_ to worry about you is a blessing. This is rough for everyone, but we are gonna get through it."

Bucky exhaled a little shakily and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Okay. Okay, let's go."

Steve offered a weak smile, squeezing Bucky's hand after capturing it in his own.

They walked like that all the way to Tony's room. The fact Jarvis had directed then there and not the living room likely meant that Tony was struggling and it had been decided for them to stay around all the boy's things.

When they got there, Bucky stood still for a moment and pulled in a big breath. "I don't know if I can...smile. I don't want to make them more worried or more upset but I...I don't want to pretend it's fine."

"You don't have to," Steve said softly, "the truth is important and we'll only be doing everyone a disservice if we pretend. They're young but they understand." 

Bucky nodded, taking another few breaths to calm himself before they entered.

All eyes were immediately on them as they slipped quietly inside.

Tony, with his head in Clint's lap, bolted upright, eyes shining. That inquisitive gaze focused on Bucky and the boy's nose scrunched up.

In a second, he was clambering off the bed and rushing over to him.

Bucky easily lifted him, arms wrapping tight around Tony. "Hi baby." He murmured against ruffled hair as Tony nuzzled his face into the man's neck.

"Daddy-" Tony whispered, fingers curling into his shirt. "'M scared." 

Bucky swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know, baby, I'm scared too. But we're gonna get though this, you know why?"

Tony shook his head, sniffling and clutching even tighter. 

"Because we're a very special family with very special people and we take care of each other. We're never gonna stop helping, are we?" 

"No." Tony whispered, pulling his head back only so he could crane his neck to find Clint, sitting on Steve's lap on the bed. "Okay?"

Clint rubbed his eyes and smiled weakly. "Okay, Tone. Gonna be okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!!💛


	14. Helping hands and one poorly boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi is this chapter completely self serving because i feel like shit and would love some physical comfort of my own? I think you guys already know the answer is yes because hi your friendly neighbourhood writer is a mess hope you enjoy!
> 
> TW's: vomiting (lemme know if there should be any others)

"You're doing so well, Nat." Maria said softly and then, taking a look at the girl's scrunched up features, she said something that could potentially cause a problem. "I'm so proud of you."

Natasha's jaw clenched a little and she slowly lifted her gaze from Bruce's light touch on her arm, for the first time since the man had started.

She looked intensely at Maria and the agent got the odd sensation that the girl was looking right to her soul. It was honestly a little unnerving but if it was helping Natasha in any way, Maria welcomed it.

Natasha said nothing, lower lip trembling just a little as she returned her focus to her arm.

Bruce had almost finished with the cast, not rushing, but not making it the most perfect job in the world since Natasha was getting antsy with how long it was taking and because once some of the swelling went down, he would have to cut it off and fit a tighter one.

Maria had managed to coax Natasha into having pain meds, though she had firmly put her foot down when it came to the IV. The agent had decided to wait until the arm was wrapped up before even trying to get Natasha to have the mask. 

One thing at a time.

After smoothing the last of the plaster, Bruce smiled at the girl. "Okay, Tash, you're all done. You did so well." 

Natasha sniffled and warily flexed her fingers, brows furrowed as she stared and stared at her arm as if it wasn't her own.

Bruce always preferred to test vitals by hand but knowing that would end in tears, he got Jarvis to call the numbers out.

None of her vitals were _great_ but the fever was definitely nearly gone and her faster pulse could probably be because of the pain the girl was in. Her blood pressure was unsurprisingly low because she hadn't eaten or drank anything in a while and was exhausted on top of it.

Natasha looked upwards as Jarvis spoke, as if she'd forgotten Jarvis even existed. Either that or...

The cold and hot air they'd forced inside her cell had come from above and Bruce had no doubt there had been some sort of speaker to rile her up.

Shit okay. No Jarvis then.

"It's okay, Nat, just checking on how you're doing." Maria murmured. She wasn't touching Natasha but she had sat in a seat beside the bed and they were a lot closer than they had been half an hour ago.

Natasha let out a shaky little breath and forced herself to look away from the ceiling. "Okay." She whispered.

"Okay." Bruce repeated, nodding his head. "Do you think you can do me a _huge_ favour?"

Interest definitely at least a little piqued, Natasha tilted her head in question. 

"I need to ask you some questions and I need you to try and be super duper honest, okay? So Maria and I can help." The doctor kept his voice soft and soothing. 

Natasha swallowed, flicking her gaze to Maria as her teeth once again found purchase in her lower lip.

"It's okay, love, I promise. You can tell him." Maria murmured, shuffling her fingers across the bed, stopping just beside Natasha's hip. She didn't touch the girl, but left her hand there in case Nat wanted it.

Another shaky breath later and Natasha was nodding slowly.

"You are being such a big help, Tash." Bruce ran a hand through his hair and dragged a chair over to the bottom of the bed so they were eye level with one another, so Bruce wasn't 'above' Natasha because that could seem threatening.

"Okay, can you tell me how your stomach feels? Do you feel sick or does it hurt at all?" They'd ruled out internal bleeding from the punches to her stomach but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling the effects of the beating. Plus, the rib the man had broken was one of the lowest ones so the pain from that would feel like stomach pain.

Natasha looked uncertain, her uninjured hand clenched and unclenched. She looked to Maria again and the older woman smiled reassuringly. "You can do it, Nat."

"Sick." Natasha murmured hesitantly, voice soft. "Bit hurts."

That wasn't surprising, Natasha's body reacted strangely to medications and though she'd only had some before he'd started on her arm, they were likely wearing off.

"Okay, Nat. Can you tell me if there's anywhere else that hurts? It doesn't matter how small you think it is, I want to know everything." 

This time instead of looking to Maria for reassurance, Natasha surprised everyone, including herself, and reached the short distance to Maria's hand.

The agent smiled, letting Natasha place their joined hands however she wanted, no matter how awkward a position it was for her.

"Ouch." The girl breathed, swallowing.

So clearly most, if not all, of her hurt. 

"Is there anywhere that hurts more than other places, love?" Bruce asked softly, keeping his tone as encouraging as possible.

He'd helped sick and injured children all over the world and he liked to think that generally, he was good with kids and helping them feel more at ease.

Somehow, it was easier with strangers than with someone so close to him sometimes. Maybe because he was so worried he might mess up.

Natasha's face scrunched up a little as she closed her eyes, thinking very carefully and taking stock of how her body felt. That was more a big Natasha thing than a Natty thing, indicating that things were still muddled in the girl's head.

Instead of speaking, Natasha let her eyes flutter open before tapping a finger against her chest and then another, very lightly, against her temple.

"Okay, Nat, that's such a big help. Does your head hurt inside or outside or both?"

"I...inside." The girl whispered, looking uncertain, almost like she was in trouble.

Maria murmured something Bruce couldn't catch, but Natasha seemed to relax just a tiny bit.

"Now, Nat, I know you're scared but there's a few things I need to do to check everything is okay. Would it help if I tell you exactly what it is first?"

Natasha swallowed, fingers clenching around Maria's. Her breaths stuttered in her throat. "I...I..." she stammered.

"You're okay." Bruce said quickly, "I promise I'll be super quick, I just don't want you to feel any worse, so I just want to help what hurts."

"Here, you squeeze my hand and Bruce can tell you what he's going to do. We go at your pace, Nat." Maria murmured, gently squeezing the girl's hand to remind her it was there.

Natasha nodded after a moment. "Okay." She sniffled.

"Okay." Bruce agreed, grabbing his med bag. He pulled out a little flashlight, turning it on and off so Natasha could clearly see what it was. "I just need to check your eyes real quick and get you to follow the light with them. And then I'm going to use this," he pulled out his stethoscope, "and I'll put it in my ears like this," he slid the buds into his ears, "and use the other end to listen to your chest. It will be a little cold but it won't take much time at all. And then I just need to check your poorly rib and the stitches on your head there. Do you have any questions, Nat?"

Natasha, still looking concerned, shook her head before changing her mind and exhaling softly. "C...cold?" She questioned quietly. 

"It might be just a little but I can rub it against my hand like this," Bruce rubbed the bell of the stethoscope against his palm for a few seconds before holding it out to her. "Here, do you want to see if that's warm enough?"

Not willing to let go of Maria's hand, Natasha gingerly stretched out the pointer finger of her injured arm and very slowly moved it forwards until just the tip touched the bell. 

She pulled her finger back, shaking her head. "'S cold."

"Thank you for helping again, Nat." Bruce smiled as he warmed the bell up on his hand. "When it's warm enough we'll go super quick so it doesn't have any time to get cold, okay?" He held the bell out again and the time after Natasha touched it, she nodded.

Bruce stood, moving to the side of the bed. "I'm just going to slide this up, okay? And have a quick listen. It'll move around and I'll put it on your back too. If you need me to stop, tell me and I'll stop right away. Does that sound good?"

Natasha's lower lip trembled a little, her eyes watery. She was obviously scared but she nodded. "Yeah." She breathed.

"Okay, one the count of three. You hold Maria's hand as tight as you want. And I promise, I won't hurt you. One, two, three..."

...

Everyone was being quiet.

Tony was laying in Bucky's lap, trying to watch a show on the screen.

Phil and Steve were helping Clint make a card for Natty, various craft tools spread across the floor. Clint wasn't the most avid artist but his sissy was, so he knew when she was feeling a bit better, she would really like it. Well, as long as he didn't lose any of her pens again.

Clint was absently petting Lucky, who was fast asleep against his leg, and carefully writing out Natasha's name when he started to not feel very good.

His stomach had been hurting all day and if he thought about, since Natasha went MIA, and he had felt a little sick, but when he was upset, that happened a lot and he'd managed to eat his snack so he'd thought it wasn't bad at all.

But now, as he tried to finish his letters, he felt really really_ really_ sick.

He dropped the pen and clamped his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Steve touched the boy's shoulder, worried eyes searching to see if he could see what was wrong.

Clint could feel himself shaking and his tummy really hurt. Like really really burning so bad it was spreading up his chest and making it hard to breathe. He whimpered softly, wrapping his arms around himself, tears in his eyes.

"Okay, okay bud, just breathe." Steve murmured, hand rubbing up and down his back. "Phil?"

"On it." The agent stood quickly, grabbing the trashcan and coming right back with it.

Steve braced the boy as best as he could, one hand on his back and the other on the back of his neck.

"You're okay, if you feel sick you don't have to try and hold it in, it's okay." The blond said softly.

Clint whimpered again, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

It hurt so _bad!_

In the end, he couldn't hold it in no matter how hard he tried.

Clint shuddered as he threw up, nails digging into his sides as if it would stop the pain. He barely had time to breathe between each time, tears streaming down his face.

By the time he'd finally finished being sick, the boy was shaking and pale, face coated in sweat.

Moaning softly, Clint dropped his head to his knees, crying softly. 

"Baby, talk to me. Can you tell me what's wrong?" Steve asked, worried as he stroked sweat coated hair off the boy's forehead.

"H...hurts-" Clint gasped, moaning softly against his knees.

"Your stomach?" Steve breathed. It could have been just a normal stomach ache, it could have been a virus or bug or anxiety but something didn't feel right. Clint was sobbing with the pain, it wasn't just a normal stomach ache.

"Phil," Steve said lowly, "do you think you can get a Shield medic here?"

The agent nodded, though he looked pained at having to leave the boy. "I'll be right back."

Attention back on Clint, Steve murmured softly to him. "Breathe, love, you're gonna be okay, uncle Phil is going to get help."

_What was happening? What else could go wrong?_

"Daddy, why's there red stuff in the bucket?"

Frowning, Steve lifted his head to see what Tony was looking at. He was staring at the inside of the trash can, which was something Steve hadn't thought to even glance at, anxiously twisting his hands as Bucky joined the group on the floor.

But Tony was right, there was something red in there. Panic hit Steve immediately as Clint whimpered and tried to curl up tighter, breathing harshly.

_It was blood._

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops sorrrrrry (not really but pls forgive me)
> 
> thanks for reading guys! maybe drop a comment if you're so inclined, see ya next time! <3


	15. Angst, Angst and more Angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo!
> 
> Hey strangers. It's been a while since I've uploaded anything at all. Life falls apart sometimes y'know. Who knew bad mental and physical health made it hard to write. I've been trying hard to not write a chapter if I don't fully want to because I feel like readers can tell the difference if I upload something I didn't feel like writing. This chapter took me a while but it's here and I hope you guys like it. 2 new little fics will be uploaded today too so check 'em out!
> 
> TW: blood, lots of it, sickness, medically stuff, panic attack, flashbacks, ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTT (sorrrry)

“You’re okay.” Bucky murmured, rubbing up and down Clint’s back, sharing a panicked look with Steve. “Just breathe, baby, it’s okay.”

Clint shuddered weakly, still gripping himself tightly. He hadn’t lifted his head from his knees since it had first been dropped there but no one needed to see his face to know that the boy was crying.

Bucky didn’t have any idea about what was happening and Steve’s worried gaze told the man that he didn’t have a clue either. Clint had been with them the whole time, hadn’t been out of sight from anyone for longer than five minutes at a time. He hadn’t been hurt during the rescue mission, and hadn’t told anyone about how badly he was hurting. It was possible the boy hadn’t even realised how bad it was until it had escalated rapidly.

Things that would never cross a ‘normal’ person’s mind consumed Bucky’s thoughts. Poison, internal bleeding from something they hadn’t caught, some sort of new virus brought home from overseas missions. There were so many possibilities and none of them were good because Clint wouldn’t having been crying from the pain if it were something mundane and everyday.

Fucking hell, Bucky was going to spiral again.

The door quietly clicked open and Phil walked the short distance to the group and got down on his knees. Tony pressed into his side, sniffling, and Phil wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “On the way. I managed to get a hold of Clint’s old doctor, so it’s someone he knows.” He said quietly.

“Someone’s going to have to get the room ready.” Steve murmured.

Tony had…a lot of medical rooms and equipment. Was it likely that all six of them would need that severe medical attention all at once? No. But was it still possible? Yes. So Tony opted to be prepared for all outcomes. All of them preferred being treated at home instead of a hospital and getting a medic to the tower as opposed to flying multiple people and a sick boy to Shield, made far more sense.

“What are we even getting ready?” Bucky asked. They didn’t know what was wrong with Clint, what tests he needed, what treatment.

“I…” Steve faltered, swallowing. “Um…”

“Why don’t we get Clint settled on the bed ready.” Phil suggested quietly as Steve struggled to even think of an answer. Phil was an angel.

“Yeah.” The blond breathed, voice a little shaky. “We’ll use room six.” The bed in that room was already prepared for a little instead of a big and was also, coincidentally, the furthest from Natasha’s room.

“Baby?” Bucky murmured, rubbing gently at the back of Clint’s neck. “I’m gonna pick you up, okay? So we can get you laying down and off this icky floor. Uncle Phil’s going to go and get your stuff with your brother so you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

Clint’s watery, small voice was muffled by his knees. “Eevee.” He whispered, sniffling. “Natty.”

Bucky’s heart hurt again. “You can see sissy real soon.” He fought to keep his voice even. “Tony will get your stuffie, okay bud?”

Clint whined softly, letting out a few more sobs, getting increasingly more violent, which wouldn’t help whatever was happening at all. “Natty-“ He insisted.

“Sissy is getting her arm all looked after.” Steve murmured, hand brushing over Clint’s hair. “And we need to get you looked at and then when you’re feeling better, we can go see her.” He hoped that was true.

“On three okay, love?” Bucky asked. “You make as much noise as you want, don’t hold it in. We’re gonna go quick but gentle and you’ll be able to lay down real soon.”

Clint shuddered, nails digging into his knees. He whispered miserably, “’kay.” 

“Okay, one, two, three-“ 

…

Bruce was just finishing up checking Natasha when noise filtered in from the hall. The girl immediately stiffened, ramrod straight, jerking her gaze up to the door.

A second later, the three realized what the noise was- whimpers and cries and moans and hushed whispers of reassurance, voices full of pain.

It was easy to determine who the whimpers belonged to.

Clint.

Without forethought or hesitation, Natasha was clambering off the bed. Her face was pale with her own pain, with the dizziness that had settled in and refused to leave. But she moved with determination, limping quickly to the door. 

Maria slid in front of her, standing in the doorway. “Natasha,” She said carefully, as the noises behind her got more muffled, a door clicking into place.

A shaking, shuddering breath left the girl’s lips, the fingers of her uninjured hand curled into a fist. She was trembling. “C…Clint-“ She whispered, green eyes wide and filled with tears. She was showing more emotion in the face of something being wrong with Clint than she’d shown about her own turmoil. That, and Bucky’s panic attack, were the things that seemed to pull Natasha closer towards them.

Of course, no one wanted anything to happen to any of them, and they didn’t want Natasha to be in pain knowing her family was hurting, but she was noticeably more in the real world than her head. She hadn’t uttered Clint’s name once, had refused to say or even hint at the archer. 

But know she was upset.

A shout from down the hall had Natasha moving again, slipping under Maria’s arm like she’d escaped Bucky earlier. Maria wasn’t about to grab her and trigger her, or upset her further. So even though she was probably best away from whatever was happening, no one was about to stop her.

Bruce and Maria followed closely on her tail, worried about Natasha and whatever was happening with the boy too.

The three pushed the closed door open to find chaos ensuing. Natasha slammed to a stop so quickly that Maria nearly careened right into her back.

“Clint-“ Natasha choked, any colour she’d had draining from her face.

Maria was immediately horrified. Clint was sobbing, his lips were stained red and black and the front of his shirt matched. The girls stood frozen but wonderful, brilliant Bruce, immediately moved towards the bed.

“What happened?” He asked, jaw set, grabbing a pair of gloves and yanking them on.

Bucky, hand on Clint’s shoulder as he tried to keep the boy still, lifted his panicked gaze. “I…it happened so fast. He said his stomach hurt and then he was sick and-“ He didn’t need to finish that statement, the dark blood dripping down Clint’s lips was evidence enough.

Tony, pale faced and trembling, very much not dropped anymore, was holding a paper basin in front of Clint, who seemed to be unable to do much more than cry and continue throwing up. 

Bruce took stock for a few seconds, mind racing as it rushed through different ideas. “Jarvis?” They didn’t have time to test vitals by hand. Fast pulse, low blood pressure, oxygen dropping. 

“Okay, bud, can you look up at me for a second?” Bruce asked softly, gently tilting the boy’s chin up. The blood stuck to his fingers, looking more like coffee than the red of fresh blood. “Can you try and tell me where it hurts? Just point for me.”

Hand shaking badly, Clint pointed weakly below his breastbone and dragged the digit down a little. That seemed to take the energy right back out of him and his head flopped back against the pillow as he breathed harshly through his teeth. 

Clint was clearly bleeding internally, and badly. Bruce had the impression that the bad vitals were mainly down to the blood loss and not something else. An idea in mind, Bruce asked the group, “did anyone notice if the pain was better or worse after eating?”

Steve frowned, “he seemed okay after eating, right? We were making cards on the floor for a while after.”

Fairly certain now, Bruce knew what was coming next was not going to be fun, but they didn’t have time to waste. “Okay, buddy,” he said softly, “I think you have an ulcer in your tummy that’s making you feel so bad. Sometimes, it can cause bleeding which is why you’re being sick. I just need to do a test and then I can help, yeah? I can make it better.”

“What test?” Bucky asked, looking across at Steve. An ulcer could cause that much blood and pain? The poor kid had to have been in pain for a while.

Bruce carefully moved to the cupboards, gathering the things he needed. Yeah, putting a camera tube down a young boy’s throat was not going to go well.

…

When Bruce had moved to the bed, into the room, Natasha had done the opposite. She backpedalled so fast she nearly tripped over. 

Her breathing was fast and wheezing and she had quickly turned so pale that Maria thought the girl was going to pass out. Either through sheer willpower or just panic, she didn’t.

Her back slammed into the wall and her eyes, that had been growing clearer, turned glassy and watery again. Maria could tell Natasha was drawing blood with how hard her nails dug into her palm. Goosebumps prickled the back of the agent’s neck as she moved, cautiously, towards Natasha. 

Something bad was going to happen.

…

Natasha couldn’t breathe.

All she could see was blood. So much blood, always too much blood, dripping and sticking and drying. Blood was bad. Blood was supposed to be inside the body. Blood outside was bad. It meant she’d been hit again, it meant she was hurt, it meant someone was sick sick sick and could be dying and that everything was bad bad bad and getting taken away, maybe forever, her life, his life, their blood. Gone, gone, gone.

Her hair was blood and she wanted to rip it from her head, her hands were bloody and she was broken and bleeding and they were coming to get her and-

She was cold. So cold. Shadows moved in her peripheral. She was tied down, restrained, chained, like a disobedient dog. She was stuck, trapped, caught and they were coming towards her. She would get hit and kicked and scratched and tortured and tortured and tortured and she couldn’t do anything about it.

They were coming.

Natasha screamed.  
…  
Maria had no clue how everything had happened so fast but one second she was chasing Natasha as the girl, not there and not responding, ran to her hospital room. The agent had gotten through the door when Natasha started screaming.

The sound was terrifying and hit Maria so hard her chest hurt.

Natasha didn’t stay still for long. With eyes so big and wild and lost Maria had the sudden thought that the girl would stay gone forever, Natasha began tearing the room apart.

She clawed at furniture, threw chairs and medical equipment and anything she could get her hands on. A stethoscope went whizzing past Maria’s head as she frantically tried to take a hold on the situation. 

All the while Natasha was backing up, gasping raggedly and aiming those objects, not at Maria the agent realized, but at something, or someone, in the girl’s head.

Flashbacks.

A box of bandaids hit Maria square in the chest. 

It had happened so fast that virtually no time had passed.

The door behind Maria clicked open and then Steve and Phil were there, just in time to get walloped in their heads with medical equipment.

When Natasha had backed herself up against the wall again, the screaming started once more. Her breathing was so fast and loud that not even Steve heard the broken voice amongst it all until they were closer.

Broken Russian, the pleadings of a girl, not a woman. Terror and agony and hopelessness and things they never wanted to hear again.

“Nat-“ Steve choked out softly, “baby, please.”

Natasha didn’t hear, couldn’t hear, just gasping and gasping and gasping.

And then as soon as it had started, Natasha shuddered and slid down the wall until she was on the floor. Her chest heaved as she tried to get air, and her eyelids fluttered weakly. The stitches on her head had opened and blood dripped freely down her face.

Her lips were blue.

Steve rushed forward, slamming to his knees. He didn’t hesitate. He lifted her jaw up, rubbing against her sternum to try and get her to take in more air. 

She was sick, dehydrated, starving, injured.

“Just breathe, baby.”

The other two got down on the floor. Natasha’s eyes rolled and never once focused. She just gasped and gasped and gasped until the inevitable happened.

Natasha’s body shuddered and the girl’s eyes rolled back into her head. She slumped forward, straight into Steve’s arms, limp against him.

Everything was going to shit.


	16. Will she ever stop with the angst? nahhhh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe the whump police turned up at my door and told me to stop treating my characters so badly and making them sick all the time? So crazy, right? Anyway, they left after I promised I would stop but I had my fingers crossed so enjoy 😊
> 
> I'm back babbbbbby and I did a loooooot of reading and learning up on all this medical jazz so it should be fairly accurate and true to life but I'm no doctor, just a whump lover so no promises.
> 
> Hope you're all as okay as is possible in this virus fuelled hell. Love to you all! <3
> 
> TW'S: medical stuff, including procedures and needles etc, blood

Steve cradled Natasha gently, like she was fragile china and not his little girl. He wanted to bundle her in his arms forever, cling to her so nothing bad could ever happen to her again. 

He hadn’t protected her enough, hadn’t been quick enough to find her before more bad things happened. He hadn’t been able to hug her and kiss her hair and rock her gently to sleep. Hadn’t been able to tell her stories, hadn’t been able to wash her bloodied hair and kiss her ouchies better for just a second. He hadn’t been able to look after her or even be around her because he had only made things worse.

Now Steve held her against his chest but he still wasn’t able to look after her. He wasn’t a doctor and he wasn’t even a daddy at that stage, he was a trigger. He couldn’t even hold her how he wanted to in case she woke up and got scared, if she felt restrained.

He was useless.

Steve didn’t know he was crying until a hand squeezed his shoulder and another, smaller hand, brushed a finger over his cheek.

“Let’s get her up.” Phil said softly, “Since Bruce is with Clint, the Shield doctor can help out here.” If any doctor knew Clint, they knew Natasha even if just by proxy. 

Steve swallowed and nodding, letting out a shaky breath as he clambered up to his feet, Phil gently making sure Natasha’s head was cradled to avoid any further pain. The blond didn’t know if Natasha feeling lighter in his arms was from her losing weight or his imagination, but it made his stomach churn either way.

As the boys got Natasha settled on the bed, on top of the covers and not under, Maria shoved the thrown items into a corner of the room so they wouldn’t get used until they’d been disinfected. Luckily, the girl had only grabbed items that were on the surfaces and not from any of the drawers or cupboards.

Every Shield agent had medical training. They weren’t doctors by any means but they knew how to take care of a range of injuries and ailments in the field should it be required, which it usually was.

Steve had had similar training as a soldier, but he was too distressed and Maria didn’t want to make it even worse. There was a small difference between a daddy or mommy tending to a little’s injuries than there was from a sibling tending to them. The agent wasn’t about to put Steve in more pain when she could easily do the job.

After a quick glance at Bruce’s chicken-scrawled notes on Natasha’s chart, Maria began to get things started. The notes were helpful, sure Maria could have figured out what was needed herself but if the information was already there, she was going to use it.

IV’s were a common thing to set up in the field, either for blood, pain medications, nausea meds, saline, anything really, and they all had a fairly capable ability to do so under pressure. Natasha had passed out so they were past the stage of waiting for the girl to decide what route she wanted to take.

She needed the IV- needed nutrients and sugar to stop the dehydration before it got even worse, before her body went into starvation mode because the bastards who’d taken her hadn’t given a shit about keeping their prisoner fed. People could only go so long without food, longer if they had water to drink, which Natasha hadn’t. Even if she had, a couple glasses wasn’t going to fix it, they needed more.

In the notes, Bruce had written about other treatments Natasha needed or would soon need. Pain medications, emergency anxiety meds (that one had been in the soon list but her second panic attack had escalated the need for it), she needed at least some help breathing and again, the panic attack, had increased the need and depleted their options some. However, the notes were underlined and next to them sat another line of writing; Natasha is not to be given any meds that are not life saving without consent. So all medications were pretty much off the table. The IV could very possibly help Natasha’s life, so the saline mix wasn’t off limits but nausea, pain, muscle relaxing meds, anxiety meds were not to be touched.

Should another panic attack occur, anxiety meds could well slide into the life saving category, with how bad her breathing was. The nose cannula was not going to be able to cut it anymore, her lips were tinged blue and the rasp with every breath went to show that the underlying pneumonia was rearing its head. So antibiotics were in the life saving list because they badly needed that under control. 

Mind made and decisions sorted, Maria pulled on a pair of gloves and placed the IV kit at the foot of the bed. Steve hovered on Natasha’s left side so the agent began to clean the back of her right hand before beginning to set everything up. Saline, glucose, antibiotics all went into the medicine mix before carefully being hung up on the pole behind the bed. 

Once that was sorted and tape was placed to keep the tube in properly, Maria fiddled with the oxygen tank on the wall, turning it up to the highest setting because Natasha’s oxygen readings from Jarvis were abysmal and they didn’t have time to ease the girl into it, which would have made it easier to be without once it was all done, but she needed air and their time to be cautious and slow had flown out the window the second she’d passed out, before even.

With this biggest issues dealt with for the time being, they could focus on the torn stitches still dripping blood down Natasha’s face and on what their next steps were, as a team, as a family. Natasha and Clint were both sick, they were all separated and torn up and hadn’t been together since they’d landed at the compound and found the redhead.

They had to be careful, had to limit triggers and anything panic inducing when Natasha woke. They had to keep her calm and grounded and not ripping away all the things she needed from her body. And five doors down, the second half of their family was focusing on the same.

…

“No-“ Clint whimpered, holding his hand to his chest, eyes big with fear and pain.

Bruce hadn’t even gotten to the worst part of the whole test yet, had only tried to give Clint the ‘sleepy medicine’ so when Bruce started the test, the boy would be all but unconscious so it wouldn’t be distressing or painful or traumatic to have a tube shoved down his throat to see if the ailment the doctor thought it was was in fact correct.

“Please, sweetheart.” Bucky whispered, fingers tenderly brushing sweaty strands of sandy hair from the boy’s forehead. “Brucie just wants to help so you can feel better. So your tummy won’t hurt and you won’t feel so icky and sick.”

“You won’t feel a thing, Clint, I promise.” Bruce said softly, crouching to get in Clint’s eyeline properly. “I can see how much you’re hurting love, and I can help, please.”

The boy whimpered again, his face screwed up tight. He couldn’t stop moving, trying every position he could to alleviate some of the pain, any of the pain. “N…Natty-“ he sobbed softly, rubbing at his eyes with a balled up fist.

“As soon as you feel better, we can see sissy, okay? But baby, you need to let Brucie help.” Bucky whispered. If Clint didn’t agree, if they had to sedate him anyway in order to save his life, all the trust would be gone.

Clint hiccupped weakly, a soft groan leaving his lips. Tony was on it just in time, paper basin under the boy’s mouth as more blood spilled down. They had no time left to wait.

“Make it stop.” Clint whispered miserably, shuddering and clutching at his sides. “Please-“

“Okay. Okay, bud.” Bruce said softly, nodding at Bucky who very slowly and gently peeled on of Clint’s hands from his stomach. After pressing the palm flat against the side of the bed, Bruce quickly and deftly murmured ‘just a little scratch’ and slid the needle into the back of the hand.

Bruce had decided to set up an IV instead of just a single use syringe because he had a feeling the boy would be needing a bunch of meds and if the ulcer was in fact an ulcer, and needed treating then and there, he would probably need more sedation. 

With the tube in place, Bruce slid the syringe with the sedative into it and depressed the plunger. In seconds, Clint was getting drowsier and quieter, eyelids fluttered and head slipping. Bucky gently captured the boy as he drifted off, doing as Bruce instructed and rolling him onto his side.

“This isn’t going to be fun for anyone.” The doctor warned. “But if it is what I think, and I’m almost certain I am, I can help right away. I can cauterize the ulcer or clamp off the vessel and start medication right away by putting it straight into the ulcer. It’s far easier to do this now then waiting. The…the bleeding is pretty bad, I’m not going to bullshit, which probably means there’s more than one ulcer bleeding. I need you two to help.”

Tony and Bucky shared a quick look before nodding. “Anything.” The former replied softly.

“I’ll get the meds and instruments ready, Tony grab gloves, I’ll need you to hand me things. Buck, you know how to use the leads and attach them to the monitor?” Bruce asked, already pulling things out of locked cupboards.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice didn’t even waver as he started to gather the leads from the machine so Clint’s heart rate and breathing would come up on the screen.

“We can’t use a breathing mask because of the tube, so grab the nasal cannula and hook that up.” Bruce came over, laying out scary looking instruments, the picture of calm on the outside, a mess of anxiety on the inside. “It’s a common misconception that stress causes ulcers, they can exacerbate, but not create them. So we’re looking for one of two things- a bacteria, in which case we give antibiotics to fight it off, or it’s because of medications. If that’s what’s happening, we switch the pain meds he uses to something that won’t trigger it.”

“A pain med can cause all this?” Tony asked quietly, brows pulled together.

“It Clint’s been taking them frequently, maybe not realising if he’s had one dose too many in the time period, then yes, it’s very possible. Both causes though, have easy solutions. We just need to get in there first. Ready?”

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more un-ready in his whole life but needs must. “Ready.”

…

Two family members, five rooms apart, both unconscious, IV’s in hands and oxygen on faces. Both groups got to work.


	17. Letting them in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some fun flashbacks that will come into play very soon and we reveal who sold Natasha out. Hope you enjoy! sorry it took so long, hope y'all can forgive me.
> 
> Trigger warnings:

**One week earlier**

_Natasha had gotten the information through on old contact based deep undercover in Moscow. She hadn’t heard anything from him in over five years, so their signal flashing up on one of her monitors sent her heart racing. She had been very specific when they’d headed separate directions one cold, snowy night._

_He was to contact her for two reasons and two reasons only. One, if he was cashing in on the debt that Natasha owed him. He had been one of the good guys, an ex KGB member who was hunting those responsible for his daughters disappearance. Him cashing in his debt would have meant he had finally found the man who had sold her to the black market, to one of many underground sex rings in the heart of her home country._

_It was either that, or she was about to owe another debt. _

_The second reason he was to contact her was if he had found something in all his searching that led to the remains and ruins of The Red Room. To any members, to any practices still running, to any of the girls who had already been out in the world by the time Natasha burned it all down. She had never known how many spies had already been out, had tracked a lot of them but she was sure she hadn’t found close to all of them._

_The two reasons had two separate codes, similar enough that someone else looking would have taken a long time to find the differences, but Natasha had them engraved on her mind and always would._

_At first, the man had sent out an SOS signal, asking if she was there and had received it. She’d typed out a reply and seconds later, she had the code in front of her._

_It was reason two. He’d found something on The Red Room, and it was time to fly to her old home._

…

_Natasha didn’t know how her contact had come to have the information he did, it was better to keep what they were doing private and only share necessary things, like coordinates, names, what was happening etc._

_As soon as the code had came in, Natasha was pulling her pre-packed bag out from under her and Clint’s bed. She gathered her computer and tracker, kissed a sleepy Clint goodbye and headed to Shield._

_Shield had known that it could come at any moment, and all three higher ups were aware of what she would need._

_When she’d knocked on Coulson’s door, bag over her shoulder, face pale, he had known it was time._

_They were keeping it off Shield’s radar, keeping it between him, Fury and Maria, and no one else at the facility. _

_In less than ten minutes, she was on a jet, watching the sky as it took off, knowing that when she returned something would have changed forever. She hoped it wasn't her that would be changed. Again._

…

_The information came in spurts and by the time the jet touched down, Natasha had it all in her hands. Wasting no time, she changed, did her hair and makeup, strapped herself up with weapons and headed out to the party her contact had supplied her an invite for._

_A party was often one of the only times marks came out into the open and because of that, Natasha had infiltrated more gatherings than she could count. She was good at it, the absolute best, but it still hadn’t been enough._

_She’d gone back to her safe house later that night, sure she had all the information she needed. She’d planned for the next day, spent all night working on her attack, entry points, way out, weapons she would need. She checked in with Phil and sat going through her plan until the sun came up. And then it was time to initiate it._

_But she had been double crossed, by her contact or by someone else and they were expecting her. The security at the doors were just to waste time so they could swarm the redhead by the time she’d killed them and gotten in. _

_It was already too late. She knew it as soon as she heard the soft hissing of the vent above her head, and by the time the gas rendered her unconscious, she knew she was in a whole lot of trouble. _

_She awoke chained, gagged, half naked and soaking wet. She awoke looking into the eyes of a girl, woman, she’d believed to be dead._

_Yelena._

_Well, fuck._

…

Natty woke with a gasp, eyes snapping open, body tense and already coiled in attack mode. She pulled in a shuddering, wheezing breath, gaze flitting around the room. As soon as she’d moved, something that had been touching her pulled away as if she burned.

There was something wrapped around her face, air hitting her skin and making her cold.

Steve was clutching his hand in his other, expression a mix of emotions that immediately made the girl feel sick. It was clear it was him who had been touching her whilst she slept, she could feel the ghost presence of his hand wrapped around hers.

But now she was awake, he didn’t want to touch her and he looked afraid. A lot of people had looked at Natasha with fear in their eyes, but not him. Not even when they’d first met, not when he saw her kill for the first time, not when she lied to him, not when she risked her life to bring down Pierce and Hydra (and yeah, there probably had been fear in that last one but Steve had hidden it well). But all those things had been Natasha, not Natty, maybe he just couldn’t hide it from the little.

Steve was afraid, and Natty didn’t know why.

People looked at her like that when she hurt them or they’d watched her hurt someone else.

Everything after stepping through the doorway, eyes finding a bloodied Clint, was gone, absent, missing. She didn’t remember a single thing, not how she got into the bed, not when Steve decided to stay with her, not when Phil even got there.

What had she done now? What else had she fucked up, who else had she hurt? What more could she put them all through?

As was the norm of late, Natty didn’t realise she was crying until someone else pointed it out. Maria had knelt on the floor at her side and though the girl didn’t remember anything after seeing Clint, she remembered hazy bits of before. She remembered Maria and Bruce, and the woman holding her hand and letting the redhead clutch so hard it must have hurt.

_Safe._

Natty let the woman run a thumb under her eyes to collect droplets of tears, sniffling as she tried to stop the flow.

“Look, Nat.” Maria said softly, holding out her pointer finger. Sat there on the tip of her finger was one of Natasha’s eyelashes and the agent carefully held it in front of the girl’s mouth. “Make a wish.” Maria whispered softly, secretively. 

Natasha blinked at her for a few second, biting her lip before leaning forward. Maria lifted the mask from her face for just a second so the girl could blow the eyelash from her finger.

“Now,” Maria hummed, adjusting the mask and trailing a few fingers through Natasha’s tangled mess of hair, “don’t tell anyone, okay? The secret is just for you.” She smiled.

“Okay.” Natasha whispered, her voice hoarse and almost gone. She winced at the pain in her throat from just the one word, teeth gritting together for a second. 

Steve finally moved, slow and cautious, keeping his whole body in Natasha’s eyeline. “Do you want some water?” He asked quietly. His voice was thick and heavy and too sorrowful for Natasha to believe he was just talking about water.

Natasha’s chest ached with anxiety, her stomach in knots and bugs crawling under her skin making her restless and on edge. But she felt clearer than she had in a long time. She saw Steve and she didn’t see a threat, didn’t even feel a threat. 

Looking at him made her sad and anxious but not in the way her confused brain had perceived it last time. She wasn’t anxious of him, she was anxious for him. Sad for him because he looked so desperately upset and broken and scared.

Natty knew big Natasha was holding some of the reins. Keeping her calmer, more aware, continuously telling the girl that she was safe, at home, okay. That these people weren’t threats, that she loved them.

It helped.

She wasn’t so scattered and out of it, wasn’t seeing people and immediately screaming danger at herself and to flee or fight everyone in her path until she was alone.

_Alone isn’t good this time, Natty, you need them._

Natty looked up at Steve. The interaction in her head had lasted only a handful of seconds and the blonde was still holding out the cup of water.

_Let them in, Natty, please_. Natasha begged, and the girl listened.

“Yes please.” She whispered, slowly wrapping her fingers around the cup, they brushed against Steve’s and she held steady, didn’t flinch, lifting the cup to her lips to take a sip. She was so thirsty.

In no time all the water was gone and Steve was already refilling it. “Careful, you don’t want to be sick.” He murmured, eyes soft and full of hope, not like they had been minutes before.

_Let them in._

Natty took as deep a breath as she could manage, looking Steve directly in the face as she said, 

“Thanks, daddy.”


	18. Internal monologues and tentative progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did not intend for this chapter to turn out the way it did. I just started doing Steve's internal monologue and then that turned into Phil and Maria having one and I couldn't just leave Natty out of it then. So a lot of thoughts and not a lot of speech in this one.
> 
> You might find that this, in particular Nat's thoughts, are hard to understand. That's the vibe I decided to go with in the end because Nat is confused so her thoughts aren't going to be cohesive and able to be understood easily. I did that because what is going on her, extreme dissociation, is a lot. It makes thinking hard, it makes understanding hard, it makes everything off and weird and scary, it can make someone (in my experience) literally not understand who they are, where they are. And honestly it's super hard to even try and get something intelligible about it down, for me anyway, because it's hard to explain to anyone. 
> 
> So yeah, I hope that at least explains why Nat is so confused and why her thoughts are all jumbled. She's stuck in a part of her brain that isn't big or little Natasha because the dissociation has made it impossible to go one way or the other because she doesn't even properly understand who she is in that moment. She doesn't know what is happening.
> 
> That was a lot more a nonsense description than I wanted whoops. I tried to explain, sorry if it still makes no sense! Feel free to ask any questions, maybe I'd do better responding to them, who knows.
> 
> Anyways. TW's are all the same as usual with the added extra DID and straight up angst. 
> 
> Sorry if this is super boring haha
> 
> Enjoy :)

The other three occupants in the room fell quiet after Natasha’s ‘thanks, daddy’. It was as if there was a physical shift in the room, a collective exhale of a breath that had been held for too long. It hadn’t actually been that long since the boys had gone to get their girl, but for the entire extended family it had felt like months, if not years.

Steve’s brows, that had almost permanently been furrowed with a myriad of emotions, straightened out. His shoulders loosened just a little. The man hadn’t had as much practice as Natasha had at hiding true emotions and as such, it had been so easy to tell just by looking at him that he was in pain, that he was upset and fearful and had remained that way the whole time.

The emotions weren’t just suddenly gone or anything like that, they had such a long way to go, and nothing would feel whole or right or okay until Clint was healthy, until Natty fully came back to them and until the girl accepted touch and comfort and love.

The blonde wasn’t sure that things would ever go back to ‘normal’, but had there ever been a normal? They were used to things shifting and changing, used to adapting to new surroundings and people. Steve was pretty certain, instead of saying back to normal, that rather things would not go back to the way they had been before Nat’s mission.

Not completely, at least. Natasha had been through such a big trauma that Steve was sure Shield would decide to hold off on missions for a while. Not only had she been tortured for days straight, in nearly every single way possible, someone at Shield had sold her out. And not only had someone she likely knew sold her out, there was a high possibility that The Red Room was back, in some way, shape or form. Whether that was the entire programme or a lone wolf, or something in between, that was going to be hard for the woman to take and deal with. 

Natasha got frantic when there was any sign of the programme still existing, just as Steve got frantic at any sign of Hydra lingering out in the world. If she was took off missions, she wouldn’t be able to fully investigate, she wouldn’t be able to go and search and stop whoever or whatever was happening. Either, Natasha would concede to Shield and accept that she was on sabbatical, or she would leave anyway.

If Natasha left, there was absolutely no way she would be alone. Five, six, seven, eight people would for sure be going with her. Steve hoped with everything in him that they were past the stage where Natasha would just disappear, refusing to accept their help with one of the most important jobs she had ever done. He hoped so much it hurt.

Steve’s internal monologue had taken barely anytime to work through, but it was long enough after Natasha had spoken that everyone was staring at him and the girl’s eyes were starting to mist on the non-response. 

“You’re welcome, love.” Steve said softly, offering a smile. He’d purposely used a nickname that was used for her big self as well as her little self, and not one of her more little orientated names.

The girl slowly dropped her gaze, still looking half asleep as she rubbed clumsily at her eyes with her uninjured arm. Her face was still pale and the lines of her face were sharp and pinched. There was a slight tremor to her entire body that could have been caused by a whole number of things.

Maria had been able to give her nutrients and antibiotics, but Natasha hadn’t been given meds that could help her because that was the girl’s decision to make. They’d mainly gotten a control on the fever, but the shuddering could have been from pain, anxiety, exhaustion, hunger, maybe all of them, there was no way of telling without probing the girl with questions.

Natty did still look very weak, she had just passed out after all, and her body had been through so much in such a short amount of time that Steve was amazed she’d even woken up so quickly and hadn’t just crashed for ages.   
...

Phil so far hadn’t said anything to the girl, worried that he would be caught up in the bad memories. He had been the first person, besides from Clint, that Natasha had seen after she’d first come from Russia. When her thoughts had been not entirely hers yet, when she was severely traumatised, when everything she’d been through had been all consuming and in nearly every single thought or image she saw. 

The agent’s hands were white around the bed railing he held and it was clear that not only was he experiencing pain as a complete big and dealing with his niece being so far from him, but his nephew was currently, as they stood there, going through surgery after he’d literally thrown up his own blood. He couldn't help either of them.  
Gods, he couldn't wait to see Melinda and hold her close. She would get wriggly and embarrassed and pretend to be annoyed, as teens did, but she would return the hug with everything in her.

Just as Natasha had been able to feel Maria’s anger from earlier, she seemed to sense Phil’s distress, looking up from where she’d been intently staring at the cast on her arm. Her green eyes bored holes right through Coulson, taking in absolutely everything. Phil thought he was a good enough agent to hide feelings and emotions and portray whatever he wanted to the outside world but now, with Natasha staring at him like that, he felt like he was the most abysmal person at that ever.

He had no idea how she did it. Obviously there was a reason she was the best stealth agent they had, a reason she’d come out The Red Room one of the last to survive, a reason she had kept herself alive all her life, but Phil didn’t pretend to understand. Natasha saw everything and as much as that made her an amazing agent, he couldn’t imagine ever having that ability himself. He would go crazy, seeing and feeling everyone’s emotions all day every day. He didn’t know how she wasn’t curled up in a ball with her eyes closed to shield herself from it more often than she did.

Most people believed Black Widow didn’t have powers. And sure, in the traditional sense, in the flying men and gods and rage monster ways, she didn’t. But she had powers alright. And it made her the most protective, loyal, fierce, caring, understanding friend that anyone would ever have in all their life.

The small smile Phil had plastered on his face in a dumb attempt to convince the girl he was fine very quickly dropped at the look in Natty’s eyes. He could feel his cheeks flaming just a little and he cleared his throat in a very awkward way, wanting to look away from the intensity but also unable, stuck there just looking at her.

After what seemed like far too long but had realistically been thirty seconds or less, Natasha tilted her head just a little and said in a soft, husky voice, “uncle Phil, could I have another pillow please?”

Whether Natasha genuinely wanted another pillow or not was irrelevant. She had been beaten, tortured, had her brain played with, been sick, had her whole world turned upside down, was desperately confused and stuck in different sides in her head, and she was comforting him. He was being comforted. She’d reached out to him, asked him for something, opened herself up even just a little to him, to make him feel better.

Phil swallowed the orange sized lump in his throat, surprised to feel the burn behind his eyes of tears that he rarely shed. He cleared his throat again, nodding. “Of course.” He murmured, smile a little more real this time as he moved towards the supply cupboard. 

The relief in the air was palatable. Steve had relaxed further, face smoothing out, looking weak and emotional at the very thought that things could be getting better, that their favourite girl was slowly starting to come back to them.  
...

Maria smiled softly at the girl as Phil very carefully set the other pillow behind her, wanting nothing more than to reach out and smooth down Natty’s flyaway hairs, to tuck a blanket up under her chin, to hold onto her hand.

She wasn’t sure how she had been able to get past the girl’s defences before anyone else, how she’d been able to touch her and reassure her before anyone else. Maria wasn’t entirely sure she was worth the trust Natty had given to her, that she could live up to the strength the girl had shown when she’d let the older woman help. 

Maybe Nat had simply only let her close because she was a female, maybe she reminded Natasha of another girl from The Red Room, maybe she had just known that Maria was safe. It could have been any reason, it didn’t entirely matter. What mattered was that the girl had had someone she trusted to take support from and Maria would be forever grateful that she had been able to be that person.

That being said, Maria knew that the rest of the family were struggling deeply with the fact that Natasha hadn’t let one of them in first, that she hadn’t let Clint in first. And sure, it seemed that way on the outside, since Maria had been the one allowed to whisper to the girl, the one to hold her hand, but it wasn’t entirely true that she’d been the first to get through to Natasha.

Bucky had. And yeah, it had taken a panic attack and the man literally passing out, but there was no doubt that it had gotten through to Natasha, that the girl had started to come back to them after. And then, after Bucky, after Maria, came Clint. When the girl had seen the archer so sick, more of her had come back then too.

Natasha was so so so more concerned, more invested, cared more, about her family being sick or ill than she was. She’d been tortured but she’d cared more about Bucky’s panic attack. She’d nearly been killed but she cared more about Clint and his illness. Self-preservation was something all agents had, but it came in varying levels.

Sometimes someone was so focused on themselves and them surviving that others around them wouldn’t be saved, would die, but Natasha hadn’t been that way in a long time. She would give her life willingly for not just her family, but for most people she would ever meet. She had almost given her life, multiple times, to ensure the safety or survival of someone else.

She’d pushed Clint out the way of a bullet, saving it from lodging in his skull, finding purchase in her collarbone instead. She’d tackled a woman about to drive a knife into Bucky’s chest, knowing the weapon would not go anywhere but into her own body. She’d walked through an exploded warehouse, flames crawling high, smoke spilling through the air, to get to a trapped Maria below the debris. And there were more examples of Natasha being so selfless, almost to a worrying degree.

Maria watched with soft eyes as Natty got settled against the new pillow behind her head, looking up at Phil as the man boldly dared to brush his fingers over the girl’s hair. It was a move that could have ensured he was the next person among them to have a broken arm. It was also a move that told Natty that no one was scared of touching her, that they were still there, willing to comfort her in any way.

The reaction seemed pretty good for where abouts they were in recovery. Natasha didn’t invite in further touch, she didn’t smile, but she also didn’t flinch or pull away or literally snap the man’s arm so all in all, not so bad.

The redhead’s gaze turned onto Maria and the agent was beyond please to see that the girl wasn’t completely shrouding her emotions anymore. It wasn’t as if she was an open book, but she also didn’t have the cold, closed off expression.

It was a start. It was more than a start, it was progress.  
…  
From the time Natty woke from her nightmare to the time the group around her had finally settled, Natasha had felt pretty out of it.

Even the physical pain of her injuries was dulled. Everything around her seemed fuzzy, too bright, too much but also not enough. She felt off kilter and beyond weird, but couldn’t begin to describe the feeling even to herself. It wasn’t a new feeling by any means but every single time it happened she still didn’t understand. It had gotten worse very quickly, taking only seconds to intensify.

Natasha wasn’t entirely sure who she was. Logically, she knew her name and where she was and who she was with, but beyond that she was confused and torn. She had absolutely no idea what age she sat at and as such had no idea what part of Natasha she was. Was she Natty? She felt vaguely young but she didn’t feel like she was the girl. Was she Natasha? She felt vaguely older but didn’t feel like she was the woman.

Her mind had split again and she had no idea how she was ever going to get back to one side or the other. 

Whoever she was, she knew she couldn’t stay split forever, she couldn’t stay neither one of her selves, she couldn’t stay in the hazy dark, lost and confused for all of time. She had to get out of it, one way or another.

Natasha was aware again of the static in her head. She didn’t remember hurting her arm or dropping in the first place but she remembered that up until moments before her injury someone had been screaming in her head. Then nothing for a good long while. Someone was speaking now, but it wasn’t the voice she had heard before dropping. 

It was startling for Natasha to realize the missing piece in her head, the missing voice, was Natty. That would, obviously, usually connote that she was little. Especially because she felt smaller, because she could hear her adult self talking in her mind, because adult her was asking the younger her to let the others help. Because big Natasha was telling whoever she was that she was safe, at home, okay. The big voice also called her Natty, which didn’t seem entirely wrong.

She was so confused her head was spinning and throbbing even trying to understand just a little part of it.

Did she have more ages than she originally thought? More people in her head? Was it something that happened to other people or an anomaly? Maybe something that had happened in The Red Room had made the change, maybe it was the wiping of her brain, maybe it was the PTSD, maybe maybe maybe. 

She found she missed the voice of her other half. Her younger self had been treated so badly and Natasha remembered the voice sobbing in her mind’s eye, begging for her family, begging for touch, begging for comfort.

But then the split had come, and it wasn’t Natasha or Natty’s decision, and neither of them had gotten what they wanted.

At once she felt guilty, and that was actually a blessing, feeling anything other than the panic creeping in. She was supposed to nurture her little side, let others nurture her too. And she’d let her down. She couldn’t control the split in her mind, but she could control other things.

Natasha also couldn’t control her fears, her triggers, her ingrained fight or flight response. But she could control whether she let them win. She could control what she put out into the world. She could control what she let others see, she could control whether she let help in. She could help the pain so clear on her family’s faces, she could help reassure them and have reassurance in return. She could let them bring her back to them.

Taking a shaky breath, feeling coming back in waves, Natty looked up, lower lip so quickly beginning to tremble that it was hard to speak. She inhaled raggedly, dragging a hand over her wet eyes, cheeks already sticky with tears. 

“Help.” She whispered and then as an afterthought, whispered and hushed, “please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe leave a comment, lemme know how you like it. also have another new little fic on the go and another new one ready to be posted in the next few days so stay tuned! love you all, stay safe <3


	19. Scary procedures and an exhausted doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Hope you enjoy. TW's for medical stuff and surgery etc in this one.
> 
> Let's go!

Considering how quickly things has seemed to turn to shit of late, Clint’s surgery and first treatment went well. As well as Bucky could determine, giving that he had little knowledge of what Bruce was using and doing. 

The camera that Bruce had used was tiny, but the tube leading up it? Not so much. Bucky had been sure Clint was going to wake up as the doctor started winding it down his throat, that he’d cry and panic and throw up and look at them with eyes full of betrayal. But actually, Clint hadn’t reacted at all.

The boy stayed lax under Tony’s hands, the man helping keep him in the right position, and the vitals on the screen barely fluctuated, the oxygen dipped a little lower, but that was why he had the nose cannula in, something being shoved down your throat was probably always going to make it a little harder to breathe.

Bucky really really really and again, really, did not want to look at the screen by Bruce’s head. He’d never been squeamish with medical stuff. Not when he was a kid, cleaning up after Steve relapsed with his health and threw up all over the place, not when he’d cleaned his best friends bloody wounds and set his finger because he was a menace who could never just not fight, literally never once in his life. 

He didn’t flinch when he dug bullets out of his body, when he stitched up his wounds in shitty bathrooms with dirty equipment. He got worried when one of them was hurt, always would, but he never saw injuries or illness and thought _ew oh my god I’m gonna throw up_. But there was definitely a line between injuries and then literally seeing_ inside_ your family member’s body.

Come to think of it, maybe that was the point. If he’d been watching his own insides on the screen it was likely he’d be pretty okay with it. But the fact it was someone he loved dearly, his _baby_, laying there with a camera inside him, made Bucky feel more than a little nauseous. Maybe it was because he was a big and a daddy, maybe it was just understandable, whatever, it was still awful to watch but he couldn’t look away.

Tony was holding Clint so Bucky was able to press a fist to his mouth as the camera had reached it’s destination. There was so much blood. How could one person have that much blood in their stomach and not be…dead?

First things first, Bruce took a sample to test right after to see if it was bacteria causing the ulcers. Their camera, Tony had designed it, had tiny little pockets around it to collect samples. It had originally been made to be used in the case of ingesting poison, when it would have more difficult to test blood for it, but it worked for their case too.

Then came the even scarier part; cauterising. Bucky had had wounds cauterised more than he cared to think about, but never inside his body, not like that. The man was overwhelmed with the notion that if they could smell burning, he was literally going to puke his guts up then and there. Bruce wound the next wire down the boy’s throat and Bucky braced himself. But luckily, the only indication that it was even happening was on the screen.

“Okay.” Bruce murmured, nodding his head to the corner of the screen. “That seems to be the one causing the most issues but if you look, there’s a cluster of them around it. Some of them, thankfully, haven’t started to bleed.” He didn’t need to say how bad the consequences could have been if they’d all been bleeding, they knew what that meant.

“I’m going to cauterise all of them, since it’s likely the irritation could cause the others to rupture anyway and there’s not point putting Clint through another procedure.” Bruce murmured, brows furrowed as he focused on his work. 

Bucky inhaled sharply, fist still pressed to his lips. There was a chance he’d bitten into his knuckles at some point. “And…” He swallowed, slowly lowering his hand. “And that’s gonna fix it all? They won’t bleed again?”

“These ones won’t no, but we’ll need to monitor carefully in case more appear. But that’s what the sample is for, if it’s meds, we change them, if it’s bacteria, we give antibiotics. So no, I don’t think there will be an issue with them bleeding.” Bruce muttered as he carefully moved from one to another smattering of smaller bleeding ulcers. 

Bucky watched the rest in silence, his own stomach a mess of anxiety and sickness. 

Bruce was good and efficient, quick, but careful. When the last wound was cauterised, the doctor removed that tube and keeping the camera in place, used another tube that Bucky didn’t know the use of. It became clear very clearly when the soft sound of whirring filled the room and the blood on the screen began to disappear into it, suctioned up and out his body.

“Okay.” Bruce nodded, exhaling slowly. 

“That’s it?” Bucky asked, voice a little weak. “He’ll be okay now?”

Bruce did one last look around with the camera before removing both remaining tubes. “I think so.” He looked up for the first time since it had started. “We’ll change to the oxygen mask and keep him on his side in case he’s sick again, and I’ll give pain meds continuously through the IV but yes, I think we’re good.”

_Good._

What a novel word.

…

Clint felt all heavy and icky when he woke up, trying to blink crusty and sleepy eyes open. He must have made some sort of noise because then daddy was there, brushing over his hair, whispering softly to him. “It’s okay, baby, you’re okay, just take nice deep breaths.” Bucky murmured.

The boy let out a soft whimper, wincing at the pain that caused. His throat _hurt_. Sniffling, Clint very slowly forced his eyes open, vision still swimming even then. 

“Stay still, love.” Tony said softly, crouched at the side of the bed, one of Clint’s hands in his. “Try not to move bud, you’re gonna be okay. Bruice is gonna give you something else for the pain, okay? And then you can try and sleep some more.”

Clint tried to talk but nothing came out, just another, hoarser whimper. A few hot tears spilled over his cheeks. He grit his teeth against the pain, sniffling weakly. 

“I know, baby, my brave little boy.” Bucky whispered and it sounded like his daddy was upset too. “It’s okay, sweetheart, here we go, the medicine should help.”

Ice spread up Clint’s hand and his arm and soon his whole body was a little chilly. But the pain began to dull and the boy felt like he could take the first proper breath since waking. Of their own volition, his eyelids fluttered shut and the last thing he felt was a press of lips against his temple before sleep overcame him.

…

Once Clint dropped off, Bruce took a couple decidedly shaky steps backwards, rubbing a hand over his forehead. He didn’t look very well himself, all pale and the lines of his face hard and pinched. He swallowed rhythmically, eyes misty and body trembling finely.

“Bruce?” Tony asked quietly, hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hey, come’ere, sit down.” Bruce was gently directed into a chair as the other man knelt in front of him. He searched his partner’s face for a few seconds, realizing exactly what was going on.

The poor guy hadn’t had a break the whole time, hadn’t been able to drop once. He could have, they could have gotten the Shield medic in sooner, but Bruce had wanted to look after Clint and Natasha himself, hadn’t wanted a near stranger to do the things he had done. It was brave and selfless and also not good for him at all.

“Brucie…” Bucky said from his seat on the side of Clint’s bed, the boy’s hand in his. “You’ve done enough, love.” He murmured, smiling weakly. “Everyone is okay, the medic’s gonna be here any minute. I know it’s hard but you have to let it go now, you need to let it happen.”

Bruce swallowed again, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute. When he spoke it was in a soft, reserved tone, and already younger sounding that minutes before. “He needs me.”

“Brucie, you’ve done enough.” Bucky repeated. “Clint’s okay, you said so yourself, the medic can monitor him, okay? You can’t keep pushing it off, it’s not good for you. You’re gonna get sick, love.”

Tears were definitely about to fall as tired eyes moved from Bucky’s face to Tony’s, still in front of him. “Bucky’s right, love, it’s time, alright? Please, B, you need to let it happen.”

A soft, hiccupping half-sob left the man’s throat as those tears finally escaped his eyes, making hot trails down his cheeks. After a last look at both of the other men, Bruce closed his eyes and finally let the barriers down, let himself slip over that line he’d been pushing back for so long.

It was time.


	20. Baby steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey lovlies. Won't bore you with any details about my being gone. I'm here now! Little bit of a shorter chapter but hopefully still good. We're getting properly into the little stuff now. Enjoy! I love my Shield fam and Auntie Ria is my fave :)

Natasha swallowed nervously. All three adults had frozen after she’d spoken and the jury was still out on whether she’d made a big mistake and should have kept her mouth shut. 

Steve…_daddy, Natty, It’s daddy, okay?_ still looked upset, his eyes were watery and Natasha began to think she hadn’t just made a mistake, she’d made a really big one and she’d made everything worse and she should just shut up and-

“What can I do?” The blond asked quickly, hesitantly, hands gripping the railings of the bed to stop himself reaching for Natty. “I’ll do anything, love, anything at all.”

And yeah, that was a good question. Just not one Natasha had an answer to. She should have, considering she’d asked, but actually she really wasn’t sure what anyone could do. She shook her head, anxiety fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t know. She didn’t know at all. She needed…wanted…she didn’t want to be in control anymore. She didn’t want to have to tell people how to act around her, she just wanted everything to be okay. 

Deep down, Natty just wanted to be looked after. For the adults to use their initiative and not make her choose what they could and couldn’t do. She wanted to be little, wanted the decisions to be out of her hands, she needed…she needed her daddy to be her daddy and make choices for her. She was so tired of making them herself, so tired of distancing and hiding and not letting people in to look after her.

But how was she supposed to explain any of that?

She hiccupped weakly, chest burning as her breaths got a little more shallow. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t know, she couldn’t-

“Natasha, love?” Phil asked softly. He was the ‘proper’ big, the only one out of them that was always caregiver, if anyone could figure out what she wanted, it would be him. 

Natty didn’t want to be in control.

_Please help, I can't do it anymore._

Phil watched her for a few moments, letting himself filter through the signals Natasha was giving off. He dove into his own thoughts, his own big reactions, his experiences, the feelings inside him that would drive what he did and said. 

Finally, after a minute, Phil very carefully and slowly perched himself on the end of the hospital bed. He clasped his hands together and made his posture and expression convey that he wasn’t a threat. “Take a deep breath, love.” He said quietly, a little firm, but mostly just kind. “I can see you’re struggling a bit, panicking, yeah? How about we let Maria give you a med to help? It’ll make you a little sleepy but really will help.”

Natasha swallowed again, trying her best to take a longer breath, anxiously tapping her casted arm against her knee. “I…”

“It’s just that you don’t need to go through another attack, Natty, not if we can help. And your chest already hurts when you breathe, right? You might feel more poorly if you can’t breathe as good and we can help the symptoms so that doesn’t happen.” It was then Phil really listened to his instincts. Sometimes Natasha needed to make all the decisions and sometimes she needed to release control over to her family. 

“I think we should do it, yeah? Maria?” Phil looked over at the other woman. 

“It would be a big help, pumpkin.” The agent said softly, offering a reassuring smile. “Once your chest feels a little better, we can move on to other things.” Noting the look in Phil’s eyes, she moved to the medicine cabinet without confirmation from Natasha.

Obviously, she wanted to not be in control anymore, but that still didn’t mean they were going to drug her without consent. If Natasha said no, Maria would absolutely listen and leave the med alone. But as she brought the little pill over to the bed, cup of water in hand, Natasha seemed to release a little of the tension in her shoulders. 

Looking up at the woman, Natty held out her hand. “Okay.” She whispered. 

Maria didn’t hand the med over right away, making sure to catch the girl’s gaze. “Really okay? You’re sure?” She asked carefully. 

Natasha nodded, looking a little relieved. Maria finally relinquished the med, keeping a close eye on the girl to make sure she actually took it. She winced a little as the pill went down and without pre-thought, Steve was there with the water, lifting the cup to Natasha’s lips so she could sip at it. 

“Good job, love.” Steve murmured softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. 

Phil smiled, knowing he’d gone the right direction. Still listening to his instincts, he gently squeezed Natty’s blanket covered knee. “Why don’t you lie back a little bit, hmm? Get comfy.” 

Natasha nodded and shuffled herself on the bed, not laying down, but leaning her back against the pillows behind her head, letting out a shaky breath as her new position eased the pain of her broken ribs and the strain on her neck. 

“Maria?” Steve asked hesitantly, following Phil’s lead and daring to try something that could end disastrously or end up being a very good choice. “BunBun is waiting for Natty tucked up in her bed, do you think you could go grab her?” 

It would have been easier and quicker for Steve to go, since he knew exactly where the stuffie and all her other comfort items were, but the thought of moving from her side made him feel physically sick. 

“Sure.” Maria smiled, “Is it okay if I leave for a minute, Nat? I’ll be right back, promise.” 

Natasha had been far more comfortable when Maria was there, something to do with her trauma response towards men at that time, so despite her not setting out to issue a test, the test was there nonetheless. They would see if the girl was up to staying with just men, or if keeping the woman in sight was better.

Taking a quick glance around the room, Natasha clenched her fingers. “I…” She stammered, face pale. “I think…”

Maria readied herself to sit down by the girl’s side. Phil could get her stuff.

“that would be okay.” 

_Oh. _

_That was a good sign. _

The agent smiled, softer this time, proud. “Okay, pumpkin, I promise I won’t be long.” Whilst they were on the up swing of things, Maria dared to ask, “how about I pick you up something to eat?”

“Okay.” Natasha’s response wasn’t a raging yes please, but it was progress, and a little more tension seeped from the girl’s shoulders. 

“I think we could all do with a nice snack, right, love?” Steve asked, carefully and lightly drawing his finger across the back of her uninjured hand. The girl watched the digit with wide eyes, but didn’t pull away or flinch. In fact, she pulled her gaze from Steve’s hand up to his face and offered a weak smile. 

“Yummy.” She said softly, nodding her head. “Snack.” 

Another potentially dangerous move as Phil said “Auntie ‘Ria will get your favourite, Nat, I bet.” 

The girl didn’t pull a face or retreat into herself or outwardly grow anxious at the whole ‘auntie’ part of the sentence, just nodded her head in agreement. Letting them use that word was telling. It told them that Natty was more in control than Natasha, that she wasn’t forcing the little away as much as she had been, that she was now more open to the idea of being dropped and using kid words and being looked after.

Maria left the room feeling more hopeful and optimistic than she had all day.


End file.
